A creepy Italian SPIDER bit me.
On the breast.
Oddly, I've had the exact same problem with CANADIAN flies. You cannot judge the wickedness of even the smallest creature by their nationality or their leg count.
If you're a spider lover, please drive on by. There is nothing here for you but pain. I detest the suckers and they started it.
Maybe the Roman spider bite might not have been such a big deal if years ago, I hadn't foolishly crawled into bed with a Texan.
Technically he crawled into bed with me.
Obviously I mean a brown recluse spider in the great state of Texas, but my inner fiction writer keeps trying to punch this story up a notch. Plus I had to throw that in here to see if my husband is still reading my blog.
The morning after I'd been with the brown recluse, I woke up with my back ON FIRE. It was nasty and I went straight to the doctor. That experience wasn't too bad. I did a course of steroids and antibiotics. The inflammation went down. Life carried on.
Until another spider would bite me.
Bite me they did. Until that night in Texas if I'd ever been bitten, I never noticed. Everything changed after One Night with a Stranger in the Lone Star State. That sounds like a book title. You can use it. If I did, it'd be about a spider.
Most spiders seem happy with a quickie leg-hump and chomp. (The Italian one was the first who went straight to second base.) But no matter where they bite, things get ugly. Think zombie apocalyptic wound. Think ooze and spooze for a few months. Eventually my immune system notices and gets it in gear. Usually.
If you don't think you've ever been bitten by a spider, I say you're lucky. Obviously you're not allergic to them. Go right back to pretending in winter mosquitoes.
The morning after the Roman spider bite I didn't go straight to the doctor. I was on vacation. There were no bones sticking out. You know the vacation doctor rules. If death is not obviously imminent YOU'RE ON VACATION! *insert miracle cure* *even if it is just wishful thinking* Plus this bite wasn't a bad zombie apocalyptic one. Even zombies have degrees of grossitude. Amiright?
The breasticle bite was just enough to warrant a WHOA! WHERE HAS THAT BEEN?! From Dear Hubby. Then we were off to snap epic and memorable cell phone photos of Roman sites, like the Hard Rock.
After a couple weeks of not making direct eye contact with the wound, I returned home and dragged myself in for a mammogram, just to be safe.
Imagine my surprise when come to find out, spider induced mammography isn't all that unusual. The technician and I exchanged spider horror stories. She won. Let's not go there.
Life Tip: Never play Grosser Than Gross with a medical professional (or a plumber).
It's slightly less fun to get a mammogram when you have a spider bite, but it wasn't that bad. I'm pretty sure I have wimpy princess genes, so when I tell you something isn't so bad you can trust me.
Whenever I have a mammogram I try to score a sticker after. They are there for people's kids, but HEY, I'm the one who just went through the monster mash. I'd like two please. One for each, right? I don't understand WHY they don't give stickers to adults anyway. And eclairs. Maybe a shot of Fireball Whiskey. Dude, something, okay? I went straight from the breast press to the eclair stand. Then I came home and took a nap to get over my trauma and sleep off the sugar coma. This was followed by getting online and purchasing a Himalayan Salt Lamp.
There is no correlation, but this is how I deal with trauma. A splurge. A me day. You should try it. If I'd found a spider in my house, I'd have juiced him in retaliation and been perfectly satisfied. Fortunately I've discovered an organic way to keep spiders out of my house. It took me years to figure this out.
Get a ton of Swiffer dusters, and get one with the really long extending handle. Dust every single inch of your house. You have to get the ceilings, the walls, the baseboards. Don't forget behind the furniture too. I just crank up my heavy metal DEATH TO ALL SPIDERS music and dust the abusive bastards out of my space. If you get the cobwebs, the spiders tend to disappear. I do it about every two weeks now. I also went so far as to replace a couple old doors that couldn't be spider proofed.
I live in the woods so I have to be vigilant in my defense. Spiders are forever trying to get to me. I think, to the mind of a spider, short mountain-climbing legs are freaking hot stuff. Now I'm going to have to worry about them getting all up in my cleavage too. As far as I'm concerned this is war, and one more reason to take my writer-self to Iceland and live. Please share any good spider battle plans in the comments. I'd also love to know how you feel about spiders, unless of course you're a fan. If you are a fan, I know a guy in Texas who'd love to meet you.