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Leaves of Three, Cuss Me

Let’s do a quick show of hands. How many people out there have suffered from some sort of poison, be it poison ivy, poison oak or poison sumac?

We’ll refer to you folks as Group A. Thanks. (You can put your hand down now.)

And how many have never experienced the poison? You are Group B. (You lucky bastards.)

I’d like the people in Group A to look around at those in Group B – because I’m assuming you’re reading this blog out-loud to a group of your closest friends and family.

Don’t the people in Group B look sweet? Caring? Compassionate?

Yes, and they are. But remember, it’s these people, these poison-immune who will come to you when you’re covered in sticky pustules and say things like, “Oh, poison ivy, I don’t think I’ve ever had it!”

And god bless them. They mean to defer to your experience. They mean it to be humble, like having never been to a certain exotic country. They are unsure, noncommittal, but eager to let you know they would relate, if only they could.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had it!”

I’d like everyone in Group A to turn to the closest person in Group B and join me in a great, itchy, “Cuss you.”

Because when your toes stick together with crusty, golden pus and the boils have started marching up your legs and still, the only thing that brings the thinnest wisp of relief is to scratch – scratch like a coyote in a trap, scratch like a sand crab digs for its life – it’s these people who will blush and explain that they’ve never had the pleasure. And you will want to throttle them.

Poison Ivy, Oak & Sumac: the Unholy Trinity

Here’s how it works: Moths have camouflage. Stinkbugs stink. Porcupines have quills. They’re all ways to avoid being eaten.

And the Unholy Trinity has urushiol.

Urushiol is an oily allergen to which your supple skin negatively reacts. The itch, the rash, the bubbles – if it comes from Poison Ivy, Oak or Sumac, it’s technically called “urushiol-induced contact dermatitis.”

The term “urushiol” comes from the Japanese word for “lacquer,” as it’s actually a resin that resides in the plants’ sap. Because urushiol persists in every inch of the Poison Ivy plant (Toxicodendron radicans), you can even contract it from their innocuous-looking roots and dead vines. The oil is effective on a dead plant for several years.

As infuriatingly powerful as these plants are – Poison Sumac (Toxicodendron vernix) is considered by some botanists to be the most toxic plant in the United States – they deserve mad respect. Humans can contract sores from all three in the dead of winter, without a single leaf in sight.

The reaction is even more impressive at the molecular level. It takes only 1 nanogram of urushiol (that’s one billionth of a gram) to cause a rash. That means a reservoir of oil the size of a pinhead could cause 500 people to break out. Up that ante to ¼ of an ounce and you’d have enough urushiol to cause every person on earth to itch. (Presuming, of course, that they were all part of Group A. Which they’re not. But you get the picture.)

Enough Research. Get The Flamethrower.

Alas, much as I’d love to paint my face with berry juice and join you in a bonfire of the botanies, fire can make urushiol airborne.

Did you get that? If you were to burn a branch of Poison Oak, the urushiol can attach to dust particles in the smoke and invade your pretty pink lungs. Next thing you know: respiratory failure.

One more thing. Specimens several centuries old have proven capable of inducing reactions in test subjects. Make no mistake: the Unholy Trinity is an ancient enemy.

Like where this is going?

Mosey on over to The Unholy Trinity: Part Deux

And if you feel like you walked into the middle of something, check out the inspiration for the Itch Files: Real Men Itch