It wasn’t Monkey Pox. Just hives.
My doctor was awesome enough to not suggest “stress” as the cause of my hives. We covered the usual suspects — no new soaps, detergents, medical issues (other than The Pox), pets (other than The Baby), or medications — and then he said, “well, the good news is that even though we’ll probably never find out what caused it, it probably won’t happen again.” I’m glad that he was so confident about that, because after waking up with hives all over my face two mornings in a row, I was ready to move out of my house and never eat, drink or touch anything ever again for fear of discovering a new allergen.
But by last night, The Pox were faded enough that I was already forgetting my fear and Penelope was allowed on the bed again. Also, Mike was out of town and I was more afraid of a cold bed than I was of being allergic to the dog.