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Thursday, August 31, 2006Tick On My TorsoTicks were foreign to me until I moved to the South. Not that they don't have ticks up North; I'm sure they do. It's just that the little boogers enjoy a swelled population down here, a large percentage of which lives in the woods behind our house. So in all these years I've never had one on my body. I've pulled them off of Eric and the children, sprayed various chemicals on them when they dared to hatch on the screens in my windows, and watched my kids pluck them off of each other like a pack of orangutan. Then, yesterday morning, I discovered a Dark Round Circle on my torso. I ran to the bedside, where Eric was just emerging from his nightly coma. "Eric! Theresatickonme!" Somewhere from the depths of his barely conscious brain, Eric knew that I needed him to de-tick me. He actually got out of bed immediately, squinted at my torso ("Yeah, that's a tick..."), and loped into the bathroom after me, ready for tick extraction duty. Honestly? I had to steel myself mentally. It doesn't hurt to have a tick removed, and it doesn't take long. The problem is that I know too much about ticks. I know how they work, burrowing their nasty little vampire heads into living flesh in order to suck the blood from larger, much more important organisms that don't deserve such an affront. I had to tell myself not to get sick, pass out, or drop dead. I could feel those tenacious tick legs fighting against the tweezers; I could see, in my mind, the Bug From Hell, unwilling to give up his parasitic feast. Eric had no idea how tightly I was holding onto that towel rack. Fifty-seven dreadful seconds later, it was all over. I was tick-free. "It's about the same size as the one that was on me the other day," Eric said, holding up the tweezers for my inspection. "I don't want to look at it! I'm not looking at it!" I had barely survived the procedure without puking; I wasn't going to risk going over the edge by actually examining the ugly little creature. Holy cow, tick bites are itchy. And ugly. I'm glad this one is hiding beneath my shirt. I was up in the middle of the night last night scratching the stupid tick bite. Okay, I'm only mildly traumatized. But if Eric thinks this little incident is going to in any way endear me to his dream of taking a Family Camping Trip, he is deluded. Ticks are only one example of the thousands of reasons (all of them sporting more than four legs) why I refuse to go camping. I'm a weanie and that's all there is to it. |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
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14of my readers are feeling chatty:
You are braver than I am. Tom would have had to knock me unconscious before removing the disgusting thing.
GROSS! I thought you had to put a hot match on their butts to get them to back out. So much for all the stuff we learned at Girl's Camp!
Oh boy, ticks. Yup, I grew up covered in 'em, the nasty things. I HATE them so much. Squick me out completely. Not having ticks in the yard was the only good thing about living in town.
I got an email recently that said the best way to remove them is to rub them for 30 seconds or so with a cotton ball saturated in dish washing soap. When you take the cotton ball away, the tick will be attached to it, and you don't have to worry about if you got the head or not.
I have no idea if this is true, I've not had occasion to try it yet.
Sorry if it's bad info, but it might be worth trying...?
Camping.
That's what we did this summer! But my idea of roughing it is a hotel without a pool.
Needless to say, my husband kept my lemonaide slightly spiked.
I hardly noticed any bugs.
robin
Ooh, that's just nasty!! And we were thinking about moving down there?!! LOL! :-D
The trick is to block oxygen to the little suckers. Butter, crisco, the aforementioned dishsoap, etc cover it up, and after a little while it has to come up for air.
If you just pick it off, there is a good chance the head will pop off and stay right where it is.
Do you have chiggers there in TN? When I was in WV we sure did. If we walked barfoot through the grass, we could count on little red itchies on our feet. A cotton ball with rubbing alcohol worked wonders. THe itching stopped immediately.
Yucky!!!!
Hey at least Eric woke up when he heard the "t" word. Scott would've mumbled "there's no tick" and rolled back into his coma. He thinks I'm paranoid about ticks and the reason? because I'm the one who ALWAYS gets them!
I'm cringing throughout the entire post! Can't imagine facing that on a regular basis. HOpe your end of summer is wrapping up nice! Glad to be back.
(((Jillian)))
Next time tho, give us a little warning before describing what an insect can do to you. You've burst my little bubble that I've hidden in for 31 years. ;-)
No one here has asked for pictures?????
OK then, I wont. :-)
Kudos to Eric though. Once again proving his hero status.
I'm TOTALLY itching right now. How does a tick land on your stomach? Were you in the woods.
I'm cringing at the thought of that tick burrowing into you.
Great descriptions!
Found you on Kristin Nelson, I think.
OOOOO I'm loving all this wonderful sympathy!! :)
Dave -- Chiggers are another lovely Southern Speciality we've learned about since living here. Jonathan was recently COVERED in chigger bites, all over his ankles and feet. I couldn't even accidentally brush against his bare foot without shuddering.
Clear nail polish works. So does chigger-rid, which is basically clear nail polish marketed as chigger killer. :)
Ken -- I, unlike you, refuse to publish photographs of my chest. :)
Snickle -- There are no ticks up there in the frozen tundra because you only have 5 and a half days of summer.
Manic Mom -- Yeppers, I've seen you over at Kristin's blog. Thanks for stopping by! I will have to return the favor.
That's why I like it here! No threat of them lil' buggers :-)
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