Living With It

No one wants to read about my protracted panic attack over the ringworm situation, which included sweating, shaking, crying at my desk, and eating nothing for two days but half a piece of buttery rosemary toast prepared by the stylish and sympathetic Paula L. and some fresh hot cornbread prepared by the lovely and talented Alissa M. Let's just say it was worse than the scleroderma panic of 2006 but not as bad as the full-on loony tunes breakdown of 1998. It was more than uncomfortable. But I know some of you want to know what's happening, so I'll outline the most recent events including, I hope, the resolution of this painful chapter in the history of my anxiety.

On Wednesday I saw Applesauce chewing her foot and I remembered that the vet told me that the ringworm would appear around the cats' eyes or at the base of their claws. I did not sleep well. On Thursday, I decided I had to call the vet and find out whatever happened to that culture. They told me the cats are carrying ringworm. (They tried calling me during December when someone--Charlie?--accidentally forwarded our phone to nowhere for about a week.)

My options: dip the cats in sulfur-smelling liquid twice a week, after squishing some sort of protective lubricant in their eyes, and then put those big plastic collars on them so they don't lick themselves. Or pay the vet $25 per cat, per week, for vet to do same. For four to six weeks. Or give them pills every day.

Neither treatment will work unless I decontaminate my house of shedded fur. Which means vacuuming and bleaching every surface and confining the cats to a room I can swab with bleach three times a week. Everyone has a room like that, right? I decide on the pills, even though it won't work, because I'm not going to move three beds and vacuum under them every day.

On Friday I set about attempting to catch the cats to bring them to the vet so he can culture their fur again. If it's negative, I can just stop the pills and the bleach and all that and move on with my life. I seal off the bedrooms and the cat flap that leads to the basement. Applesauce lets me pick her up and plunk her in the carrier. I chase Rebecca around the house for half an hour until she ends up stuck behind a book case in the study, crying. I call the vet and tell them I can't come.

I pick up the kids at their schools and head to pediatrician. Charlie has zits on his face, zits that come and go and do not look like the ringworm that I had on my rump, but like my friend Sarah says, if you buy a new shirt and it has a tag in it that itches, you think, oh that is an itchy tag--unless you have just checked into a room at a sketchy hotel and you think you see a flea, and then you put on your new shirt and you feel the tag and you're like " Oh my God there's a flea in my shirt, I'm infested with fleas getitoff getitoff getitoff!" So everytime I look at Charlie I think

He's got ringworm on his face.

Because I am crazy. For real. 

The pediatrician--not Dr. J., but that nice blonde lady from his practice, because Dr. J. was booked--asks me if Charlie's ski jacket rubs on his face. "Yeah, I guess so, especially in the car," I answer. She tells me his zitty rash is an irritation, nothing systemic. Then the she and I both say at the same time, "Aquaphor," and then we laugh. Then I ask her if it could be ringworm. "Absolutely not," she says without hesitation.

We see Dr. J. in the hall. "What's up?" he asks, looking interested. "Nothing," I say with a relieved smile. I fill him in, and he confirms what newly minted pediatrician slash book club member Eliza told me, which is that ringworm does not make the hair fall off the heads of caucasian children.

I called the house call cat vet and ask her to come over on Monday.

She came this morning and looked the cats over. We talk about the ringworm. The cats don't have it. We don't have it. And that whole house decontamination thing is impossible, as well as pointless, because I could go outside and pet a dog and bring ringworm back into my house all over again. "It's everywhere," she said. "It's just not a big deal." In other words, I don't have to do anything. This is exactly what she told me when I had ringworm, now several months ago. But I went to the regular vet for their regular shots because I didn't want to pay the $65 fee she charges to walk in my door. And I mentioned the ringworm, and that's when the trouble started.

I am now never going back. I don't care how much of Jeff's money I have to give her. Sanity is priceless. It's the house call cat lady for me, 4 eva.

My mom made me promise that if the house call cat vet lady came and told me to forget about the ringworm, I would have to forget about it. Really forget about it. And believe me, I want to forget about it. But this afternoon I noticed a perfect circle of tiny red marks on Charlie's hand. Ordinarily I would recognize that the size and shape were an exact match for his own teeth. But because of the shirt tag flea effect, I felt the flush creep into my face.

He's got ringworm on his hand.

No he doesn't.

I have post-traumatic ringworm stress disorder. I want to believe the house call cat vet. I really do. It's just going to take me a few weeks or months to crawl out of this deep dark mental hole that I've dug myself into.

I can't imagine who actually read this whole post, but just for you, since you stuck with it, here's a picture I took of some dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets because they were frozen together and it reminded me of how fossil hunters sometimes find the bones of dinosaurs that were like, caught in a death clutch, because a killer sandstorm blew up while they were fighting.

Does this make up for the crazy? No... no I suppose it only proves it.

Comments

[jo]

You are doing the right thing. Everything I read about ringworm on the web says that drastic measures are not called for. It seems to be pretty straightforward, and very common. Some susceptible people show symptoms.. yeah, that's you... of course.... but so far, so good, for the kids. Trust the home visit lady. The vets may be right about how to eradicate it from your house, for awhile, but they clearly did not address whether it was ~necessary~ to eradicate it. I am really looking forward to seeing you all in a week or so!

[Heather]

Ahhhhhhh, all this ringworm talk reminds me of the Great Lyme Disease Debacle of 2005. Was the tick that had to be removed at the ER huge, way too huge to be a deer tick? Yes. Was the tick only attached for a short time, far too short a time to have transmitted Lyme disease? Yes. Did I check 2,342 websites to confirm this fact? Yes. Did I take the antibiotics that would eliminate any chance of the tick giving me Lyme disease, even if it had been a deer tick, which it was not? Yes. Did I stay up at night worrying obsessively about every single red mark on my pale and blotchy Irish skin for months and months afterward? Also yes.

You are not alone.

[Michele]

I won't bore you too much with my story, but yours also sounds like the Attack of the Head Lice, starring my family. My younger daughter STILL freaks out if she thinks I am going to check her hair...I checked for months longer than I needed to. But, I was insane. Insanity is still a good defense, right?

[Alissa]

My money is on the stegosaurus.

[Christiana]

It's so easy to believe the worst in a situation like that, but it sounds to me like the home-visit vet is more logical than the other. I think you're doing the right thing, too - and eventually, you will adjust to not thinking everything is ringworm.

And thanks for the picture - it was pretty funny. :-)

[Kit]

You wouldn't be anywhere near as much fun if you weren't crazy!

[Julie]

In my family we are big fans of focusing all of our time and energy on made-up and very rare diseases and problems(e.g., "elbow cancer"). It makes the real and much more common problems seem so much less intersting and pressing! There is nothing like the feeling of all the blood running to your face when you're filled with panic - except for maybe the feeling of blood returning to your feet when you're filled with relief! Aren't you the one who knows that great saying about hearing horses/zebras? (I can never get that straight)

[Jill]

Thanks for your comments everyone. Every time I think, "This is just too crazy to post," that's when I get the most support.

The saying is something like "If you hear hoofbeats, look for horses." As in, not zebras. As in, it's probably tennis elbow, not elbow cancer. Thanks for reminding me.

[shaina]

the dinosaurs made me laugh out loud. heheheeheheeee...BREATHE!! ok.
i'm home now...yay...i go back to school on sunday, if i can see you guys before that it would be amazing!

[jo]

Because, Jill, when you think you are at your most crazy, it draws the most "yes, I've been there" feelings from us! Now, does that say ~we~ are crazy, or that we are really all so much alike! I love your sharing, because it makes me feel so much more like I am not alone :).

[Sarah]

Ahhh ... the Great Head Lice comment made me remember that when the school told us that some kid had lice, I spent the ENTIRE week scratching my head. ... Which was not quite as bad as the previous version of GHL panic, when I was pregnant and went to a dance class with a woman whose kids had head lice and then spent the entire next week looking up head lice treatments on the Web to see whether, IF I were to contract head lice from the woman's kids (who weren't present at the dance class, of course), I would be able to use the treatments safety without harming my unborn child ...

[Lee]

Have you tried medication for your obsessive thoughts?