First, you might notice a fever that feels personal. It’s not a “maybe I’ll take a nap” fever; it’s a “my bones are made of hot sand” fever. You’ll feel tired in a way that makes folding laundry feel like climbing Everest.
Then comes the itch. It’s not a polite little tickle—it’s a demanding, “scratch me right now or I’ll make you lose your mind” kind of sensation. You’ll scratch your arm, and three new spots will appear on your back in retaliation, like a game of whack-a-mole you are destined to lose.
