The Creepy Crawlies are (almost) a Medical Condition

In which our Lady scratches an Itch. 

                It is not quite a diagnosis, but almost.  I have the creepy crawlies.  Brilliant neurosurgeon ‘A’ actually used this term a few weeks ago to describe what he knew was coming: the creepy crawlies (but not the heeby jeebies or the antsy pantsies).  No, what I have is the irritating sensation that constantly roams across the former dead strip on the top of my head.  I thought it was itchy before where the stitches were coming out, but this is different.  If there is an itch scale, I'd call it a 7, for "there are ants (but not fire ants) foraging on top of my head!"  ( 8 being fireants: itch and sting; 9 being I can't concentrate and I'm going to scratch my scalp off; 10 being am I bleeding down my face yet?)  Vocabulary wise, I’d say that the itch is less impactful but more invasive, perhaps.  The thing is, when I reach up to scratch, there’s no place to actually do it—no way to relieve the itchiness.  There’s no spot to focus in on.  It just flutters back and forth on top of my head.  And I end up rubbing down my whole hairdo just as an attempt to get it to stop.  I am quite sure that the people in church today thought I had lice.  Why else would I be scratching so much?  Which brings up a good point: Why am I writing about this? And why am I so darned itchy? It seems that my formerly dead nerves are reawakening. (Honestly, my nerves are more fickle than the artist formerly known as Prince). The top of my head is a high nerve center, and just needed some time to heal apparently.  So, cross the top of my head off the (small) list of things I’ve lost, because it was only temporary.  In memory of my gratitude list yesterday: I am grateful for an itchy head?