I’ve got the sweet meat. That’s what Mister always says about me anyway, as I’m constantly being bitten or otherwise eaten alive by various bugs, be they crawling or flying. Mostly, this is just an itchy nuisance in my life. I’m guessing it’s also a source of chuckling for Mister, who never seems to entice bug bites his way. I could go on and on about the injustice of that, but I’ll refrain.

 

Anyhoo – I’m fairly accustomed to being bug bait. And rarely do I run into real issues. But dang! Last Saturday night/Sunday morning, that changed. It was around 1:30 in the ayem. I know this because I looked at the clock soon after I swatted at whatever took a chaw out of my arm. And whatever it was managed to escape. The low-down, dirty, rotten culprit appears to have been a spider. And where was said spider? In the arm of my robe. We’d been out late, and when I slipped my robe on, the little jerk got me.

 

 

Within 12 hours, the bite was swelling and itching. I’m grown, so I was able to resist scratching, mostly. Anti-itch creams failed miserably and I pretty much decided to try and ignore the irritation. (That has not worked, by the way, but I’ve not been scratching, so I guess I should be grateful for small favors.) I also resisted the urge to pop the 2 pus-filled bite marks (that’s right – the low-down, dirty, rotten spider bit me twice). I just kept thinking that I needed to give it a little time. To rest. To heal. To go the hell away.

 

By Monday morning – less than 36 hours since the assault – the bites were more pronounced and the red area on my arm had grown. The welts were actually hard, too. And the itching wasn’t getting any better, either. So I called my doctor’s office, thinking maybe I could simply send a photo and they could tell me whether or not I needed to go in. The phone call was rather brief, as I was told to get thee to urgent care. And by thee, I mean me. And by urgent care, I mean urgent care. Easy words like “infection” and “discoloration” were tossed about. Not so easy words like “cellulitis” and “necrosis” were spoken, too, and I didn’t much like the sound of those. Reluctantly, I did as I was told and by the time I got in to see the doc at urgent care, the red area had sprouted a few veiny legs and was getting bigger.

 

Turned out my tetanus shots were out of date, so that was tackled first. Then I got a lot of instructions and warnings about what to watch for in the next 24 hours. Then I was prescribed antibiotics and sent on my way. I wasn’t happy about the meds, y’all, as I’m not a fan of antibiotics, but my arm is infected so there wasn’t much use in arguing with the doctor.

 

As of now, I’m keeping an eye on things and taking my medicine. (The pus-ridden parts have gotten huge!) I would prefer to keep my arm intact and not lose a chunk of it, so I plan to be vigilant in my watch. I will also take the antibiotics, dang it. On top of all that, I’m also hoping for the best.

 

I’m usually not much of a fraidy cat about bugs, but I’m beginning to re-think my position on letting them be. The low-down, dirty, rotten spider that double-bit me actually hurt me. And I’m not okay with that. Going forward, I may have to squash the little assholes as I encounter them. One bad arachnid spoiled the whole dang bunch.

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