A story to go with the scar.

Remember how, in my last post, I said I’d been bitten by some nasty bug that left a welt on my leg?

Well, about 10 days after being bitten, the welt still hadn’t gone down, and had actually gotten a little bit bigger. All night long, my calf ached, so in the morning I went to see a doctor. This fine physician, after examining the aformentioned leg, sat back and pondered for a few moments. He asked where I’d been (Answer: top of Mt. Washington) and if I had noticed the bite at the time (Answer: no, I only noticed the welt when we reached the bottom of the trails) and had there been anything strange about the bite (Answer: well, yes. While riding in the car, I’d scratched it because it was itchy-sore, and a flood of dark blood had poured out, so much so that I had to stick my leg out the car window, lest I ruined the upholstery.)

Have we reached the land of Too Much Information? Sorry. I ought to have warned you that this is where our journey would take us.

So the doctor took this information, mulled it over, and said, “I can’t say for sure, because I didn’t see the bite immediately after you recieved it, but it’s possible you were bitten by a brown recluse.”

I didn’t really know what that meant, so I googled ‘brown recluse bite images’.

DON’T DO THIS.

The brown recluse is a very bitter, angry, and vengeful spider that shoots necrotizing* toxin into its upsuspecting victim, causing hellish open sores, ulcers, melting skin, general Wes Craven-style nightmarishness. If I was bit by a brown recluse, then it must’ve been a very small one, because my divot of missing flesh was only the size of an appleseed, and the welt around it only the size of a twoonie. Some of the festering open wounds pictured on Google wrapped around people’s thighs, they were so big. AI AI AI!

Here’s the reason I say “IF”: the community appears to be very sharply divided between those who say the brown recluse lives in British Columbia, and those who say it does not.  I have friends who are outdoorsy biology spider affectionados who say, “Yes, it lives here, deep in the bush”, and I’ve read literature that says “No way, every sighting and bite has been misidentified”. I’m not particularly sure who to believe.

All I know for sure is this: something got me, out in the woods. And I’m happy to report that, a month later, the welt has gone down in size to the circumfrence of a quarter, and it’s only a brilliant scarlet colour, now, rather than blackish-red. At this rate, I’m hoping my leg will be healed by Christmas.

 

*’necro‘ is latin for dead, and ‘tizing‘ is latin for ‘OHMYGODGETITOFFFFFF!!!!!