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“But it itches,” the girl said matter-of-factly.
“It will only itch worse if you keep scratching it,” the mother told her as she lifted the child onto the table. “Let’s let the doctor take a look so he can make you feel better.”
“Hi, I’m Chrissie,” she introduced herself. “I need you to fill out a couple of forms while Dr. Stevens checks your daughter and figures out what we need to do about this rash.”
The woman nodded and took the clipboard Chrissie offered. After glancing over the papers, she began writing her responses to the standard questions.
“What’s your name?” Trace asked the little girl, who was rubbing her arms up and down in an attempt not to scratch.
“Chloe.”
“That’s a pretty name. My cousin just had a little girl and she named her Chloe Jane.”
“I’m Chloe Darlington.” The girl rubbed more briskly.
“How old are you, Chloe?”
“Four.”
Trace did a quick ENT examination, glad to see all normal findings rather than swollen tissue that might block an airway. Then he checked the little girl’s rash more closely. Large, raised pruritic wheals with a pattern that only appeared on areas not covered by her clothing.
“Chloe, have you ever had a rash like this before?”
The little girl shook her head.
“She hasn’t,” her mother confirmed, glancing up from the form.
“Hmm. This is an allergic rash, something we call a contact dermatitis, meaning that Chloe is allergic to something that she’s come into contact with today.”
“She didn’t start breaking out until we got to our tent tonight. She was fine until then.”
“Have you used any new products today?”
“Not that we know of.” The woman thought a moment. “Well, other than her sleeping bag. That’s new to her as she’s never camped before, but I’ve used it a few times in the past so it wasn’t brand-new.”
Trace looked at the pattern of the rash again. “What was she wearing in the sleeping bag?”
“She was in her T-shirt and panties.”
Which matched the rash being on her legs, forearms, and not on her trunk.
“She’s allergic to something in your sleeping bag.”
“It’s just a thin sleeping bag, not a down-lined one or anything. I have one of those, but was afraid she’d burn up in this heat,” the woman rambled, thought a moment, and then got an aha! look on her face. “I treated all our bags with bug spray to repel mosquitoes and such. You hear about all these diseases and viruses and I wanted to try to prevent everything I could.” She winced. “I sprayed it heavy.”
Trace nodded. “I’m going to give her some liquid diphenhydramine. I think that will help. If we don’t see any improvement fairly quickly, then I can administer some steroids intramuscularly, but I’d rather not do that if possible.”
“So, we’ll need to stay here for a while?” the little girl asked. “’Cause I’m tired.” She yawned to emphasize her point.
Trace laughed. “Tell you what, once your rash calms down a little, which I believe it will with the medication, I’ll let you and your mom take my cot because we can’t put you back in your tent, and I’m going to want to be close in case you have further problems.”
“You don’t have to do that,” the girl’s mother assured him, looking embarrassed. “We don’t want to be a bother.”
“It’s not a bother. I wasn’t planning to sleep other than catnaps, anyway.”
While overseas, in war-torn countries, there had been way too many nights he’d not slept more than in short snatches, while keeping on alert for danger to him and his patients.
Besides, he and Chrissie hadn’t been planning to sleep.
