Ticks and Talks

(After reading this edge-of-your-seat tale, check out the update here.) 

I was totally going to illustrate the tick story.  It was going to be great.  See, I even started:

 

But then I remembered that I couldn't draw.  I figured it out out when I couldn't draw legs for me or a body for Roomy, since she was sitting down at the time and that proved too complex.  And I look pregnant, and my skirt is see-through, and there's just something generally wrong with all of this.  

But the tick looked kinda cute.  See?

Darn cute.

So anyway, I got home from a weekend away at a cottage and stretched (that's pretty accurate in the picture), and Roomy, whose got loads of hair (as depicted), asked if I had a bobo on my belly.  I looked down, and I saw some blood, and legs.  Yes, little moving legs.

Whispering "eeewww" ever so gently, I shuffled towards Roomy, who looked closer and then backed away.

"I think it's a tick," she said.

And right she was!  Roomy managed to pull out the tick with tweezers, a needle and her health card.  Well, most of the tick, anyway.  Which was pretty awesome of her as she's terrified of spiders and ticks are in the arachnid family (or so one of my friends informs me.  Note accuracy of drawing - I put in eight legs.  Eight cute legs.)

The next morning we trekked to the clinic to get the rest of the tick out, but it was too full so we went for breakfast instead.  Priorities!

On Tuesday morning, I was ousted from work to go get it checked out.  I went to a nearby clinic, waited for a bit, and the doctor called me in.  She was an adorable older woman with red hair complete with white roots, and she sat me down in front of her.

"What can I do for you, dear?"

I leaned in, eyes wide.  "I have a tick!"

"Is it still in there, dear?"

Leaned in a bit more.  "Most of it's out.  I think."

"Well, why don't you show me."

I backed up, so I wouldn't knock her down lifting my shirt.  I showed her the wound on my white belly.

"Oh yes, there's definitely something in there that's not you.  Do you want me to take it out?'

Now see, at first I thought that was a trick question, kind of like when the dentist asked if I wanted Novocain, and I thought "hey, if he's asking, then LOTS of people must get three cavities filled with absolutely no anesthetics, so I can do it, too!", and I said no, and I saw stars, felt my spine shrivel and witnessed the tunnel of darkness closing in on my vision, and I've just generally been haunted by my own stupidity ever since.  Now to show I CAN learn, I totally said "um, yes?"

So she took out this nasty needle and froze me, and with first surgical scissors and then a scalpel, she cut my tender tender belly flesh and pulled out the tick bit.  Which she showed to me.  It was little.  A paw, methinks.

The best part was the doctor having to call Telehealth Ontario.  As she's only had to deal with one tick in her (long) career as a doctor, and she hadn't heard of ticks near Westport, she wanted to make sure there were no health advisories for rampaging Lyme disease or people turning into zombies and stuff like that.  

Telehealth Ontario, it turns out, wasn't aware of ticks in that area, either.  So they've no clue what wonderful bacteria this bibitte has gifted me with, but they're very curious to find out.  Depending on "what happens to me," as was kindly put, they might put out a health advisory.  

Maman, I'm moving up in the world!

In the meantime I'm putting this super duper antibiotic cream on my belly hole.  The cream is called Bactroban, and must be said in very dramatic inflections.  It even has a theme song, now!  

All's good on the bug front, though.  My biggest concern is my unfortunate reaction to band aids.  The red welts are not the cutest thing I've ever seen.  

After all this sexy talk, don't forget the cabaret show tonight!  I'll be performing in the Vernacular Spectacular, a part of the Ottawa Storytelling Festival, starting at 10pm at St. Brigid's Centre on St. Patrick's.  Don't worry, I won't be telling the tick story.  But there will be some singing!

See you then!