Arachnophobia

I am not generally a hater of things. I do, however, mostly hate spiders.

I had a friend back home who loved spiders and he used to say that if I knew more about spiders, I wouldn't dislike them. He said they were amazing. We ate a few hits of acid one night and I actually played with a spider. It probably was tortured by my winding it's web around my fingers while it dropped and climbed and dropped and climbed, but it felt like playing to me (silly mean giant human). It was the only time in my life I liked a spider.

So, I was bitten by a spider 7 years ago. That really did it. It was a nasty bite. It probably happened camping, but I can't be sure. I do know that the bite was on my right hip bone and I had recently begun dating my husband.

At first, it was just a red bite. I didn't really think twice about it. Over the next several days, it began to itch a lot and it became an angry shade of red. At the time, I was still driving my husband-to-be batty with my "you can't have me all the way" game, so he really wasn't seeing me naked enough to notice my swelling aggravated right hip chomp spot.

Easter was fast approaching. It was the first time I was going home to S's to meet his seven hundred thousand family members and his two sisters. I wasn't nervous. I was excited. We were blessed to have a real life love-at-first-sight you-are-the-one-for-me-forever kind of thing, so I was looking forward to reviewing the rest of the package I was in for.

Easter morning. Going to mass. S was raised Catholic. I am a Jew. Oi vey. Everyone is showering. Six showers to be taken in 2 hour's time. Four women, two men. Being the guest, I get to go first, while there is plenty of hot water to be had. I am in the shower and I am hurrying, being considerate. I wash my hip. Ouch. It is sore. I clean it and the rest of myself and I turn off the water, grab my towel and step out onto the mat.

My bite was about 6 days old at that time. It had moved on from red and swollen to black in the center with a white ring around that and general redness in the surrounding area. It was swollen. It itched and it hurt. There was a soreness that actually wrapped down around my pelvis and sort of into the place where my thigh met my crotch. Not good. I knew I needed to call the doctor, but I thought it'd clear up on it's own. I was certainly getting grossed out by the black center that had developed, but, well, I hadn't called by Easter, is the point.

I wasn't thinking of my bite. I was thinking of getting the fuck out of the bathroom fast so everyone else could get in and out. I cast a peripheral thought toward the soreness at the site, as I pat it dry, and I grabbed my undies.

As I pulled them up my thighs, my bite exploded.

I know there is some naked imagery here, but don't think for a second there was anything sexy about this scene. What came out of that bite was horror movie material. It was pushed up and out from the infection that had developed and spread all the way into my groin. The hot water (and my special lucky timing) meant that expression was meant to happen just at that very moment. What came out was yellow liquid and green semi-solid and it smelled rotten. It squirted out with urgency, then lumped out pus chunks and then just oozed and oozed. Oh my, how it smelled. It was disgusting.

I had no choice but to use the WHITE towel that belonged to my future mother-in-law to stop the mess from hitting the mat (which was the everyday bath rug, no bathmat to be found). I also couldn't refuse that what I needed to do, now that this had begun, was to express it enough to prevent further expression of vomitous smelly pus and infection in church. I was feeling a tremendous amount of pressure relieved in my groin and at the bite site, which was good. Except, I needed to get back in the shower. No question. I would also be pantyless at my first mass. I actually found that sort of funny (shame on me).

I stood and pondered. Should I call to S? Open the door? Tell everyone? Try to tell no one?

Then, knock, knock. "S, you okay? We all need to get in there babe. You done?" Oh shit.

The rest of the story is that I opened the door and invited S in briefly and I showed him the mess I had on my hands. He thought initially I'd had a terrible bout of the shits, it smelled so bad. I did re-shower. I did say I was sorry for using double the hot water and I did tell the whole family about my spider bite.

The next week, I had to have it lanced and we had to express it for the next several weeks. I was on antibiotics for 10 days and I had officially graduated from thinking spiders were just gross to hating them. It was a brown recluse spider bite and it left a scar.

I don't want to hate spiders. They follow me around. It is unbelievable. Every time I look around, there is a spider nearby. I probably eat 15 a year, instead of the average 8. I think they seek me out because of my ill will toward them. S is constantly scooping them up and taking them outside. Even he can't get over how there is always a spider somewhere near me.

Anyway, there's that.