My Frenemy the Flatworm

Chuckle #465 | September 7th, 2011
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My kids didn’t want me telling people that tiny free swimming parasitic flatworm larvae had burrowed under my skin, causing a severe auto-immune reaction. The truth about the hideous red pustules covering my legs was “TMI”, according to my mortified teenagers.

My kids would rather let strangers in the grocery store think that I had a rare jungle borne STD than stand next to me while I explained that I did not.  Teens, like most sociopaths, don't exhibit much empathy.

What I had was simply a bad case of (non contagious) Swimmer’s Itch, which I will now tell you about in excruciating detail.

Immediately after a leisurely paddle through the marsh grasses of picturesque Greenwich Cove, my legs became inexplicably ‘tingly’. This, I learned later via the internet, was the feeling of flatworm larvae (cercaria) burrowing into my flesh.

I’m really glad I didn’t know this at the time.

These baby flatworms had recently hatched from their interim host, the snail, and were swimming about in the warm shallows, searching for their primary host, a goose or duck. Unfortunately flatworm larvae cannot tell a duck from a human leg dangling in the water, so I became what scientists call an “accidental host”.

You’ve heard the expression, “wrong place wrong time?”  That was me.

Schistosomatidae (aka flukes or flatworms) have a “complex” parasitic life cycle, which means that they require two hosts (snail + bird) to complete their cycle. The good news is that the worms die quickly in humans (thank GOD!), but not before the awesome human immune system hits the little buggers with everything it’s got.

This reaction is what causes the itchy rash. And let me tell you, poison ivy, chicken pox and measles have got NOTHING on Swimmer’s Itch.

I bathed in oatmeal and baking soda, I smeared myself with hydrocortisone creme, topical Benadryl, and in a moment of insanity, Vicks Vapor Rub and toothpaste. What can I say, I was desperate.

I popped as much Aleve as my husband would let me and chased it down with vodka (despite explicit warnings against combining Aleve with martinis.) My reasoning was that I would definitely be more comfortable and happier in a semi-comatose state. I have never been so miserable, desperate, or ugly. My oozing, crusty legs cried out for a good scratch with a metal garden rake.

My husband took one look and kept WAY to his side of the bed. I can’t say I blame him.

At least the infection was only on my legs. I’ve seen internet photos of kids with Swimmer’s Itch pustules all over their bodies. Not sure how they survived it. Maybe their parents handcuffed them to their beds and knocked them unconscious.

Looking on the bright side of invasive parasitic infections, I am thankful that it wasn’t botflies. Those things DON’T die after they burrow under your skin. At the end of 6 weeks you end up hatching a giant hairy fly, Alien style. I understand there is a lot of screaming involved.

If I got to choose my poison, I’d take flatworms and Swimmer’s Itch over botflies any day.
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