I caution you, this post might gross you out.
I now live in a part of the country where I have the threat of ticks all around me. I never before experienced this in Dallas. We only had fire ant mounds to maneuver around or black widow spiders and brown recluse spiders to fear or the on-slaught of wasps each spring/summer/fall. Ticks were a nuisance for other people, not me.
No more. Now I take every precaution when venturing outside. We always wear hats when walking through the woods. We do 'tick-checks' after the kids come in from playing outside. We spray ample amounts of 'OFF!' around our personages to create a choking haze that will discourage any insect from biting our precious skin. We do not want to be tick bait.
But none of these offensive tactics worked the other day. And the victim was me. Grossed out does not even begin to describe the way I felt. I discovered the tick by accident when I went potty. I was just sitting there and thought I saw a black speck near my belly button that resembled an Orea cookie-crumb. I knew I had not been eating oreos (plus, I'm not that messy of an eater). I started trying to brush it away. When it didn't respond to the brushing, I examined it closer. When I saw mini legs, I officially freaked out.
Then I had some instant decisions to make. 1.) Do I finish my business (remember, I was going potty)? Who can be expected to concentrate on peeing when some foreign object is trying to burrow itself inside your skin? 2.) Do I scream and have Chuck come to my rescue? But that would be rather embarrassing. 3.) How do I express my extreme concern to Chuck about my imminent peril when I run downstairs and accost him with my problem? Will he take me seriously?
Do you know it never once crossed my mind to pull the thing out myself. I was that paralyzed by fear. What if I pulled it out wrong and left it's legs still under my skin? What if I started throwing up and then there would be a bigger mess to clean up? Oh, it's so hard to be me!
I finished with lightening speed and ran downstairs to where Chuck and Bennett were talking. I make the most dramatic entrance of my career and proclaim, rather forcefully, while lifting my shirt to reveal my belly button to make the impact of my words that much greater, "CHUCK. YOU MUST HELP ME! I HAVE A TICK IN MY BELLY BUTTON THAT I NEED YOU TO REMOVE IMMEDIATELY!" I think my emphasis and fear came through adequately.
We all crowded into my bathroom (minus Chloe who was already in bed but could hear all the commotion) while I lifted my shirt so Chuck could remove the monster. For this very delicate process he uses tweezers that he heats using a lighter. Supposedly, the heat draws out the insect intact. However, I'm a tad bit self conscious about sticking my tummy out for all to see, so I decide to make the announcement, "I just want you all to know that I'm sticking my tummy out so that Daddy can get a good view of this tick and my belly button. It is not normally this fat." I then proceed to cover my eyes with both hands while Chuck extracts the vermin. It takes all my internal strength not to gag or start visibly shaking.
After about 5 minutes of this torture, I am finally free of my nemesis. I'm sure Chloe was beyond curious, so I went into her room and informed her that I am still alive, not to worry. I just have a giant case of the hee-bee-jee-bees.
Chuck said, "I'm surprised you didn't feel it crawling on you, that you didn't notice until it embedded itself into your belly-button." Nice. Now I have the words "crawling" and "embedded" coursing through my brain right at bed time. You can guess what I dreamed about.
I now do a belly button check 50 times a day.
