Today, I experienced one of the worst things that could happen to a hypochondriac:
A spider crawled out of my mouth and bit my face.
I wish I could say this was a joke — but as I’m writing this post, the perpetrator is sitting on my computer desk, grooming himself without a care in the world. You might be wondering why I haven’t killed him yet. The answer is that I’m keeping him in case the emergency room that I will undoubtedly check myself into needs him for further examination.
It went like this:
Early this morning, I had some blood-work done. We hypochondriacs like to do this on a monthly basis, so I was a bit overdue for my checkup. My doctor and I have an understanding — every time I come in, I tell her my symptoms (fatigue, possible over-consumption of milk and cheese, arm pain probably linked to bone cancer, suspicious looking freckles, etc.) and she tells me why these don’t necessarily mean cancer or imminent death. We bicker for a few minutes, and then she agrees to test my blood to prove that I’m fine, if not sleep deprived.
So, after having my blood-work done this morning I was feeling a little woozy (this is quite an improvement from last time when I flat-out fainted on the scene). I came home, fixed myself some oatmeal and a little cup of espresso. I set my cup down by my computer and wandered around the house to make sure Buster was inside on this hot summer morning, as he is in the high-risk group for air quality alerts.
I returned to my desk, sat down and took a sip of espresso. I felt a clump on my tongue, but figured it was sugar that hadn’t properly dissolved. I sort of drooled it out, since it wasn’t settling right in my mouth. I felt the sugar scurry down my chin, which seemed to be traveling a bit fast for a clump of sugar, I thought.
Then my chin started stinging. Again, I figured the espresso/sugar combination must be irritating my skin so I reached out to wipe it off. That is when I realized that this clump of sugar was in fact a spider.
At that point, I screamed and starting gagging. I ran around my room, projectile-spitting all over the hardwood floor in case any of the perp’s friends had also found their way into my mouth. Already queasy and light-headed from my earlier blood-work, I started to stumble around and crash into furniture, violently drooling and spitting like a wild animal hit with a tranquilizer gun.
Thus far, no identifiable marks have shown up where the spider bit me, but I’m assuming his venom is pulsing through my veins as we speak. My chin is starting to itch, and my tongue feels heavier than usual. My throat feels kind of tight and strange, but it could be from all of my gagging. I’m wondering if there is some sort of deal that would allow me to return to the doctor’s office this afternoon free of charge, since it is technically still the same day as my scheduled appointment. Maybe I’ll call and ask. I can’t say they’d be surprised.