I lived in my previous desert home for 4 1/2 years. The worst health affliction that I had to deal with was giardia, which had wonderful side effects of weight loss. While I have heard that early forms of weight loss pills were actually parasites, it isn’t something that I would necessarily purposefully pursue because living through the onslaught of a parasite is agonizing.
One would be led to believe that the shinier version of the desert would be not only shinier but cleaner, wouldn’t one? I was certainly led to believe such assumptions without as much of a question. That is, until recent events have caused me pause. I don’t want to paint the shiny with a broad stroke, making it seem as if everything is less sanitary here, because that certainly isn’t the case. It is ironic, though, that in the month that I’ve officially lived here, I have had to fight with extreme force against a two diabolical, disastrous, disgusting invasions.
The first was discovered about 3 weeks ago, when I sat down with Lola for some nighttime reading. Lola is often fidgety and distracted when she’s required to read; she’ll find everything else to pay attention to than the task at hand – the cover on her bed isn’t straight, her leg is cramped, she has an itch, the book is slipping, her head itches, her dolls aren’t in the right order, she is itchy. Then I realized that she wasn’t just scratching, she was DIGGING hard into her scalp. Out came the flashlight and that’s when I found:
Charlie turned out to be ground zero. I’m not sure where we picked up these little pests, but they didn’t survive for long. We shampooed, we sprayed, we washed every last living linen in our house. We vacuumed, and mostly we picked. Let me rephrase that. I picked. I picked. And I picked. In the morning, I picked through their hair. Again at night before bed, I picked through their hair. It was an exhausting process but after a week of pure diligence, we got the problem licked. After the first night of picking, which I had foolishly let my locks go free, I started to feel itchy. At first writing it off as a hypochondriac reaction to current events, I decided to ask The Mister to look through my hair. That’s when he found 4 adults crawling through my hair. I cried. I cried tears of shame. “I’m dirty!” I said. Say what you like that lice actually prefer clean hair to dirty hair, I still felt and feel like a dirty ol’ mess. There were insects in my hair.
My life doesn’t want me to be without blog material, it seems, because I again have been afflicted with a disgusting disease. This time: ringworm. The name is misleading; it is not a worm at all, but rather a fungal infection of the skin. A fungal infection. Just the term makes me think that I have some sort of mushroom on my skin – the beginnings of an award winning salad? Gross. Again, I’m not sure where this ailment was contracted. I shower regularly, and don’t fraternize with animals. It’s a mystery, but I can’t ignore the clear fact that so far, my life in The Dub has been permeated with plague-like pests!
Just writing this post, I feel like my head is itchy again. I’m going to have to get The Mister to look through my hair just one last time to make sure I don’t have any excess passengers on my scalp. I’m sure that I don’t, since we’ve been in the “all clear” for a week now. Talking about it, though, makes me remember. And remembering makes me itchy. Ew.
There is always hope, though. New findings have revealed that going camping during your “time of the month” won’t increase your chances of being eaten by a bear. In this day and age, we have to hold tight to the positive news as much as we can. At least I don’t have to worry about bears.