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Poison Oak, Poison Ivy: The Ultimate Guide
By Amy Martin

INTRODUCTION

I am your guinea pig. For over five decades I have been a walking poison oak and ivy (PI) laboratory, my body an unintended test subject for the toxic effects of the plant. I’ve been exposed so badly that every orifice on my face closed shut. Few parts of my body have escaped ghastly PI rashes. I’m not bitter. I just want to get even.

Let what I’ve learned from this life-long battle spare you from being a helpless victim. Read this booklet and find out how to:

identify all forms of PI
minimize exposure to PI
recover quick from exposures
eradicate PI from your property

The booklet is well indexed and divided, so you can go directly to the issue that’s presently vexing you. It feature lots of break-outs and bullet points so you can make sense of it even in the haze of PI pain. And there’s an easy to use shopping list of helpful products, complete with alternative and holistic wares.

Coexisting with PI is like living with wild animals: it takes a big shift of your attitudes and expectations. You should be as alert in the woods for PI as you would be for a wolf or bear. PI is much more likely to hurt you. Complications from bad PI exposure, can in fact, kill you.

For PI, it’s personal. Literally. Humans (along with a few higher primates) are the only animals acutely sensitive to it. Or at least 85% of us are. Its leaves and berries are avidly consumed by wildlife. And it’s our bane as Americans. PI is native to North America, with most of its range inside the continental United States.

In our archetypal fall in Eden, God didn’t punish us by kicking us out of the garden. We kept the garden. He gave us PI. Or from an evolutionist’s perspective, maybe PI is retribution for losing our fur, the price we pay for consciousness.


	Either way we are entwined with the PI vine. Wherever civilization has gone in North America, PI has followed. Much of the U.S. except the Great Plains and Southwest was one immense forest. Settlers carved roads through the woods, made clearings for farms, pastures and cities. PI thrives on the edge of forests and open land, where it gets some direct sunlight. And we obliged. Our simian curse is not a poisoning, but a severe allergic reaction to PI juices. About 15% of us are simply not allergic to it. (We should clone them!) The rest of us erupt in patches of swelling and inflammation… then a red, raw rash… itchiness ranging from mild to excruciating… and blisters that sometimes weep copiously and become infected. The rash persists from 1 to 3 weeks, sometimes longer. PI allergy causes even mild-mannered people to curse, cry, wail, make deals with God, and plead for anything to make the itch stop. Mainly they pledge to never ever ever interact with nature again. That’s right: environmentalists take note. If we want eco awareness to take hold, if we want people motivated to preserve nature, better PI education is key. There is no escaping PI. Pollution is driving carbon dioxide levels to rise, causing global warming. Many plants are sensitive to increases in CO2. PI loves it. Higher temperatures? PI says: Bring it on! According to a Duke University study, not only will PI flourish in our polluted future, it will be even more poisonous than it is now. But we’re not woosies here, are we? No way! No matter how bad it gets, PI is NOT going to keep us from the nature that we love and sometimes make a living from! But only if we’re ready. Read this booklet. Knowledge equals freedom.