Put the voodoo doll away.
It's all those poisoned darts I've shot over the years, they're being returned to me.
I'm being stabbed in the neck/head/ear.
My skin is on fire.
Come here, do you need something scratched? Let me scratch it for you. Okay, now get a satisfied look on your face. Yeah, that's it.
Never thought I'd be using those labor breathing techniques again.
Never thought I'd be using the phrase, "I'm glad my skin is crusting over."
DON'T TOUCH ME!!!
All of these, along with a myriad of pleas to God for help. And thankful thoughts that a moment has passed and I'm that much closer to the end.