Remember the good ole days? When you were admitted to the hospital and all you had to worry about was dying from some random, careless act of malpractice? You know, a cotton gauze sewn into your gut during an emergency surgery that spirals into a fatal infection? Or a flesh eating nosocomial one from someone neglecting to observe the “sterile environment” rules? Or the newest antibiotic resistant disease?
Yeah. Good ole days. But no more, kiddies. Now we have something even more insidious to deal with in our local hospitals…
Itchy all of a sudden? Me, too. In fact, just typing the words makes me itchy-scratchy all over, and even though I probably wouldn’t die from them I am highly allergic to any buggies that bite me. *scratches arm*
If you’ve ever had the misfortune of dealing with these little bastards, you know that they will be here long after the roaches, rats and Keith Richards float off to the Big Party in the sky. Oh yes. Yes, they will. They will be laughing at those stupid roaches. Cause even though roaches are rather hardy, they can be squished. Granted, you may have to use your car to do it (everything's bigger in Texas), at least they crunch.
Ever try to squish a teeeeeny bed bug? Impossible is the word that comes to mind. And they’re the size that can sneak into and hide…well, everywhere. *scratches leg*
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that the little buggars have found their way into hospitals. I mean, if you travel at all, you put yourself at risk of bringing home a few “souveniers” that will keep the love giving and giving and giving. But unless you’re getting a fantastic boob job, hospitals aren’t exactly the end all be all vacation, right? All the same, you’re there, in an environment where many others convene so the risk factor is high. *scratches knee*
However, when you leave the hospital, I think the only thing you should be bringing home with you is total health (and maybe a med or two). What. The. Fuck? *starts scratching all over*
I mean…YUCK. Yuck, yuck, yuck. Yuck. Did I mention yuck? *scratches buttcheek*
What is it about bugs that make it worse than any other possible fatal disease? Creepy crawliness? Ugh. Especially those really little ones. *continues scratching furiously*
Well, I’d love to sit and chat about gross things like this, but perhaps I should go and investigate mattress cracks and crevasses. (EEEEWWWW…) I don’t live that far from hospitals. Don’t work that far from one where those icky things were found. Creepy-crawly days. *blech* Anyway, wish me luck. *scratches at head* Hopefully there isn’t anything to see here folks. *tries to scratch back* (Not finding bites so hopefully that’s a good sign.) *scratches bottom of foot*
Shit. It occurs to me that I’m traveling to my beloved NOLA soon. Let’s hope that seriously drunken bed bugs get lost on their way to my clothes and suitcase so that they don’t find their way back to my home sweet home. I’m willing to drink more to take home less. “Souvs” of that variety? Who needs those?? *scratches wildly* I say the food and music alone should be enough for those nasties to stay right were they are. But just in case, little bedbug, do you really want to party hardy all summer just to freeze come September? (Yes, I know that the bitter cold doesn’t really come till a bit later, but shhhh…*whispers* work with me here, people.)
Did I mention yuck? *double shudder*
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