"Ow, I just got bit three times by a mosquito," I say to Chris, scratching at my ankles on Friday evening. Famous last words on the platform of the 4-train. Neither of us worry too much. It's Friday! What mosquitoes?

Fast forward 24 hours. I am at a lesbian bachelorette party in Chelsea (just you wait for the post on that one. HELL of a time). I am drunk. Everyone keeps mooning us. This is hilarious and yet my ankles still itch. By the time I get home, I have to pee like a race horse and want to chop my legs off. ITCHY. Chris gets me water and puts me to bed.

Fast forward 8 hours. I wake up and the three bites are swollen as hell. I call Nurse Mom, who tells me they were probably spider bites. "Maybe you should get yourself to the ER before all the skin sloughs off."

Somehow, I manage not to DIE at that suggestion. Instead, I decide to try to walk to the bathroom to brush my teeth. On the way, I realize that I can no longer bend feet at ankles and Chris finally starts taking my bites seriously.

"I'm Concernicus," he says when he is being funny and serious at the same time.

All day long I sit on the couch with my feet on a stool. All day except for the times I am in bed, sleeping off the Benedryl stupor. All day except for when we went to the movies. Everything was pretty swollen but under control when we left, but the long line at the concessions brought out a darker (see: ruder) side of me.

"DUDE," I yelled to the next man on line who was spacing out. Chris looked at me as if he wanted to disassociate himself. "I'm going to blame that on the bites," he said. I laughed and laughed. I had become such a swollen New York jerk!

Fast forward 18 hours. I've told everyone at work that I can't walk and so I hobble myself to the doctor, who asks me if I'm sure it wasn't something with FANGS that bit me. Then she makes a joke about Twilight. Then she takes my blood and sends it out for venom testing. VENOM! I feel simultaneously bad-ass and at the edge of my death.

So the verdict is (probably) spider bites. And the location is (probably) my office. Here I thought I was kicking back, giving the flip-flops a rest while I pushed through my Friday afternoon. Turns out I was inviting the most ridiculous medical mystery since the last one.

I am looking forward to the whole shooting-web-from-my-wrists thing, though. That's going to be FUN.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Hahahaha... Avi told me when he was a kid, he used to try to catch a spider and make it sit on his hand so it could bite him, and he'd hope he'd become Spiderman... pretty psychotic!!!