When I was piddling about in the yard last week, picking up tree trash, I apparently strolled through a nest of chiggers. Which did not capture my attention immediately, but later, when I came in and was getting ready for bed, I began to scratch furiously around the top edge of my ankle-height socks. As things progressed and the insane itching kept me company for most of the night, I concluded it must be some un-friendlies that were imported from the out-of-doors. (Thankfully we don't have bed bugs!)
So I have been intermittently scratching, attempting to discretely rub one ankle with the other shoe, while standing on one foot at work. Or giving more vigorous attention when I could - taking shoes and socks off and attacking with sharp fingernails when possible. Reminding me of my brother telling my mom that having acquired chronic athlete's foot fungus in a college dorm gave him some way to keep his hands busy when reading text books, saying all that attention he had to give itchy feet was 'good company' at night.
I was telling a co-worker about that row of scabs, neatly arranged around both ankles and the aggravation of chiggers. He responded with a story about a major infestation he once had as a kid, that was so funny I cried. (I have another co-worker who so thoroughly amuses me - I generally laugh when I look it him. He has such a dry, low-key, marvelous sense of humor he makes being there nearly bearable.)
So..... David said he was about ten years old, at the house of a friend who lived near a body of water. And as 10 year old boys will do, found great amusement in playing 'army' or 'war'. He reported all the little guys divided up into teams, one side Holding the Fort, and the other group attempting to capture the high ground. David's group got into some small row boat, or raft, and proceeded to float from open water up to the edge of the lake, assuming the fort-holders would not expect an attack from the water. The attacking group is creeping through knee deep water, weeds, gunky stuff to get to dry land and sneak up on the 'fortification' (which was probably a pile of lawn chairs defended by cap-pistols and guys shooting gun-shaped sticks.) As they edged up on to the bank, the now soggy, muddy guys apparently crawled through a metropolis of chiggers. Without knowing they were being surrounded by this unknown, unexpected enemy of ten year olds. I did not hear who won this particular battle, as it was not the most memorable part of the story. What he remembered was the misery of chiggers.
They were so bad, with the guys having crept along on their bellies, edging ahead on their elbows, getting their fronts completely swamped by invisible bugs, that his parents ended up taking him to the ER. I don't know if they did not know what the problem was, or the coverage was so thorough that his mom did not know what else to do. But to the hospital they went. He said they had to give him sedation to try to control the out-of-control itching. And even with medication, he could not stop scratching. They rolled him out on a gurney, covered with a sheet, into the hall way - understandably not 'life or death' and no need to leave him in a room they would need for more serious problems that might arrive. But the little guy is there, in a state of semi-oblivion due to drugs, but still itchy as all get-out. So there he is, barely awake, eyes closed, under those bright hospital hallway lights, fiercely scratching around in the groin area, giving the appearance to passers-by of what kids that age do in the middle of the night, under cover of darkness. He's not really aware of people passing by, or of what he is doing, but from all appearances, what is happening under that sheet is a little boy in the ER beating his meat.
When I pictured a little freckle-faced red-headed boy lying there, unattended on the gurney, I could not stop laughing. Or maybe you had to be there, when he was telling it, to find it hilarious.
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