Date: Thu, 27 May 2004
So, a family travels to a foreign, tropical country. All is well, full of adventure, ready for anything the day brings. New sights, smells, tastes, the breeze warm against the skin. New colors, sounds, extremely beautiful birds in flight, two evenings spent watching a spider entrap bugs with the web illuminated by headlamps, the night dew sparkling in its reflection.
The trip progresses. The family travels deeper into the rainforest. Trees, leaves and even ground cover are quadrupled in size compared to home. Towering vegetation all around, lush, canopies just like described by Conrad. The smell is heart-stopping - deep, rich earth. Home to millions below and on top of the ground. As the family goes deeper and further south, the flying insects become more pronounced and more unfamiliar. Some are spectacular in their intricacy. Some are just plain ugly, and quite frightening in their appearance. Bug nets hang over beds, reading by headlamp and candle, while all sorts of critters buzz through the night. The trip ends uneventfully, all home safely, sleepy in their remembrances of beauties past.
The eldest daughter, adventurous and engaged in her surroundings, begins to develop 3 bumps on her back and neck. They grow slowly, causing a redness and itch. Parents watch and wait, seeing what genetic flaw has been passed on to their child. The bumps break, and doctors determine it's just cysts, clearing up should be easy. More watching and waiting. They don't heal. They grow, ooze, embarrass. Head off to a specialist, and she, in all her knowledge and learning, has never seen anything like this. Urges the family to go to Tropical Diseases, since a trip to Belize has just ended 8 weeks earlier.
Even without seeing, the specialists are familiar with the description. The daughter has seen a Discovery Channel show prior to departure. "It's the Botfly!", she dreadfully exclaims. "Endemic to a specific region of Belize and one of the most common ailments brought home from that region", states the clinic. Course of treatment is given and the family returns home, unable to begin treatment due to daughter's sports commitment the next day. She has a bath, sinks below the water many times enjoying the warm water on her skin, the peace and quiet being submerged gives her, away from the drone of smaller siblings. She's forgotten the conditioner and must head to the counter in front of the mirror to reach for it. As she completes her reach, she screams, noticing something poking out from one of her bumps closest to her shoulder. Family comes running, and yes indeed, the head of a larva is gasping for air. REPEATEDLY.
Twelve sobbing, grossed out hours later, treatment begins. Vaseline. Lots of it. Duct tape. Lots of it. Completely encapsulate the 3 bumps, first with vaseline, then the cap of a small tube filled with vaseline, then duct tape to seal and secure the cap onto the skin with absolutely no peeking over the next 24 hours. Having to shave her long beautiful blonde hair at the back of her neck to get the treatment to stick.
Next day, at Tropical Diseases, numerous doctors, students, cameras, measurements, words of a medical journal article. The assistant peels off the first two caps - half-inch dead larvae curled comfortably in their vaseline coffins. Ready for the third, and by far, largest bump. Nurse peels off the duct tape to reveal a very large larva standing STRAIGHT UP, like a flagpole, 1.5 inches long, dead, unable to curl contentedly as it suffocated within the vaseline filled cap. Mom nearly faints, daughter sobs, cameras click, husband is horrified, not knowing who to reach for first, younger sibling quietly states "whoa". Tweeze it out, blood, blood, blood, calm all, more photos, reassurance, regain our composure, place the larvae in a jar for testing and analysis. Antibiotics.
All's well 5 days later. Daughter is thrilled she will now have the grossest story ever for the rest of her life.