Okay, that’s it. I’m ready to return to the artificial world
of Florida where everything feels
new and clean and landscape people spray away every possible living thing that
could bite or sting.
Yesterday
started out well enough. I packed up a rolling suitcase full to bursting with
my books, candy for customers, and one dollar bills to make change and headed off
to set up my table at the local authors’ fair in our town.
We authors
were a diverse group – my friend Cheryl's children’s bible stories, a graphic novel about a
paranormal investigator, a beloved sportswriter and his memoir,
Ellie’s new book about her trip to Tibet, a collection of letters from a family
in the 1700s, a novel of history and witchcraft, and an ophthalmologist.
And we actually
had an audience, unlike last year when not even family showed up. I caught up
with friends, reacquainted myself with others, and went home a few books
lighter.
Once home, I
morphed from local author to yard lady. My Guy and I grabbed our rakes and
blowers and started in on the leaves that had gathered over the winter in spite
of our marathons of yard work in the fall. Mamie helped by sitting in the
pachysandra, the periwinkle, and following me worriedly every time I
disappeared from view around a corner.
After two
hours or so, itchy and sweaty, we stopped for a water break. I was scratching
my thigh and looked down to find a dark spot surrounded by a red, sore, and
unhappy skin.
TICK.
We put down our water, stuffed the dog in the house, and took off for the urgent care center.
Where time
slowed d
o w n.
No one there
looked particularly sick, and one family seemed to be having a great time,
chatting and ribbing each other when they were loudly recounting past trips for
emergency care.
Even though I
knew I could feel the tick burrowing deeper, and even I was sure
my leg was becoming more and more painful, I sat for an hour and a half while
others went in ahead of me. The people with the clipboards were obviously
uncaring that my tick was probably spreading its toxin through my system as
each minute passed. I tried not to think about the joint pain and loss of
cognitive functions and God knows what-all that can happen as a result of a
tick bite.
Finally,
finally, I was called in – the last patient of the day – and waited another 15
minutes for the doctor. He came in, took one look at it, and ordered one round
of an antibiotic and left after telling me I was his 10th tick bite
that day.
Yes, I knew our
area was reported as inundated this year with ticks.
Yes, I was stupid, stupid, stupid
to be working in shorts.
But it was
actually Mamie I’d been worried about, since she’d been bitten in the fall and
had 6 weeks of antibiotics as a result. Friday I’d sprayed the front yard with
tick deterrent (we were working in the back) and yesterday wiped her down with
a topical deterrent for pets to augment the drops I already put on her once a
month.
Looks like
I’ll be using the same wipes on myself, and the next time I lift a rake or a
trowel my gardening ensemble will make beekeepers look like they’re headed to a
wanton day on the nude beach.
