ticky tacky

sunset

We were sitting at the Heritage in Waynesboro, Virginia, drinking beer, playing cribbage, fully enjoying the much deserved fourth Zero day of our 58 day (so far) hike through Appalachia when two thru-hikers placed a blank sheet of paper and a pen at our table, asking us our name, number and our three greatest fears. I don’t think they actually cared about our fears, but it was a nice touch, and the only question Em and I took seriously.

That’s not totally true. I told them I was fearless, they said, “Come on, everyone is afraid of something,” so I wrote:

  1. I am afraid of you.

Em’s List:

  1. Death
  2. Lyme Disease
  3. Death by Lyme Disease

Now that was true.

walking into glasgow

Em has been talking about Lyme Disease since before Day 1. I want to say I heard and identified with her fears, because that makes me a better friend, but every time she started talking about deer ticks this and Lyme’s Disease that, I sort of nodded in agreement without really listening, as if she were talking about a fear of heights or dandelions (neither of which affected me in any way), and not the very real chance of becoming infected with a very real disease, with very serious consequences.

crossing the james river

Early on, she would point out all the areas ticks like to hang out, talk about how they cling to the little grass stems with their little ticky toes, reaching out their little ticky fingers to latch on to my hot pink compression socks, then crawl up until they find a safe spot, and dig in. As she described this scenario in detail, my mind wandered to that movie, A Bug’s Life, and I sort of started rooting for the animated version of the tick.

Then I found a deer tick crawling on my shoe and I snapped back to reality.

the best

Since I can remember, I’ve had this obsession with checking my scalp, running my fingers through my hair, unable to sleep until I’ve touched every inch. I thought it was just a weird thing I had until this hike. I grew up running around the Northwoods of Wisconsin, the Midwest version of deer tick country. http://module.lymediseaseassociation.net/Maps/

sunrise

I vaguely remember my mom doing tick checks on us kids when we’d come in from outside (I called to confirm this happened), the backs of our knees, our armpits, hairlines. I more clearly remember the tick discovery at my Grandparent’s farm; depending on who found the tick on one of us kids or the dog, the tick met a different fate; Grandma would light a match and burn the little guy, Grandpa would fry it up on the stove and call it dinner. I sort of remember watching a news story about a spike in Lyme Disease in dogs in the area. Perhaps that explains why I equated Lyme Disease with Dog (and I am a Human) then tucked the duo away in a little memory box, never to be opened. But I distinctly remember the way my blood ran cold the first time my fingers brushed a foreign, uninvited bump on my scalp.

Devil’s Backbone Brewery

Well, I distinctly remember now, thanks to Emily and the AT. Now when I walk through beautiful pastures full of those amber waves of grain, all I see are ticks. When I stop to filter water, my eyes dart around, looking for uninvited guests on my shoes, socks, legs. Every mole looks like a tick. Every itch is a tick bite. I’ve had to reach into my memory box and separate Dog from Lyme, and replace it with Human.

But that’s okay. Because we do fairly thorough checks every night, and honestly, I think my biggest fear is finding a tick and having to deal with it myself.

em on blackrock

Which brings me to my best tick discovery story. It also happens to be my second best gynecology visit story, so if that makes you uncomfortable, you should stop reading now.

There I was, laying spread eagle on the table, heels in stirrups, my first visit to the University of Wisconsin gynecologist as a college freshman. The weekend before had been spent in a blur, back home for one of those epic parties friends from high school throw as a last ditch effort to stay a part of each other’s lives. This particular one involved a clearing in the forest, tents and a lot of beer.

beer for lunch, beer for dinner, when uncle paul joins us on the trail

I was replaying the events of the weekend silently in my head as the gynecologist did what gynecologists do, when he said something no girl ever wants to hear whilst sitting spread eagle facing her gynecologist.

“Well, well. What have we here?”

My eyes shot open, thoughts collided, derailing to the darkest places possible.

“Uhhhh. I don’t know. What do we have?”

I’ll spare you the rest of the details. The moral of this story is: Ladies, check your lady bits. Men, check your man bits.

It’s tick season, and we’re headed for Pennsylvania.

happy to say goodbye to Shenandoah

7 Comments on “ticky tacky

  1. Tosh…you are doing everything I always wanted to do. You are a great inspiration! Keep safe you two!!

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  2. Whether it’s true or not, I can’t say for sure, but someone told me that if you find a tick on your skin and it has latched on, make really fast circles around it with your finger. Sounds weird, but apparently, they don’t like the motion or something and will pull themselves out of your skin. Seems way easier than having to chase down a match, tweezers or some nail polish remover in the event you find one. Keep on marching and sharing your amazing photos and experiences!!

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  3. Your blog of your incredible journey is amazing, great writing..Thanks so much for sharing!

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  4. Beautiful pictures Tosha. Glad you both are diligent on your checks. 1000 Miles whoo hoo!! You both are amazing!!♡

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  5. Tick bits. Jokes aside, a very nice lady, then just a young mom, one of the bridesmaids in our wedding and a life long friend of The Child Bride, lost her marriage and almost her life to Lyme’s back before almost no one, including doctors, knew what it was or how to treat it. She still has to deal with the long lasting fallout. But even closer to home was the near death of our Annie, our wonder dog and the most beautiful Maltzu on earth. Her fever and extreme muscle pain was quickly diagnosed by out vet and though it was a near thing, she survived. Eleven months later it came back but she survived again. If she had been 18 (she’s only 12 now) I would have fronted her the money to buy lottery tickets. Be VERY diligent about the little deer ticks, it’s nothing to fool around with. March on!

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