Grossest. Story. Ever.

WARNING.

I'm going to issue an immediate disclaimer: If you're slightly to extremely squeamish, this may not be the story for you...

While working at the farm in Misiones, I experienced my fair share of discomforts. There were plenty of bug attacks, large and terrifying spiders living between our fly and tent, vain attempts at keeping ourselves clean by bathing in the river, a night of constant waking when I heard a low growl outside our tent and Sam convinced me that it was something in the Jaguar family, etc. By the time we left, I felt as though I had gained quite a bit in the way of strength and acceptance with respect to my relationship with the environment and bugs. Nothing quite prepared me, though, for what I experienced about two weeks later.

I arrived in Buenos Aires, my body dotted with bug bites from the farm. Sometimes, especially at the beginning of the volunter experience, my skin reacted very strongly to certain bug bites, creating a large, irritated pink spot surrounding the bite. This would generally subside within a few days. As a result, I wasn't surprised when I noticed an inflamed spot on my right inner arm, close to the wrist. I wrote it off as a standard bug bite and messed with it in the usual ways, like trying to squeeze out the pus (gross, I know... but just wait). Sam urged me to leave it alone, and as it became larger, he told me that I had probably made it worse with my poking and prodding, but that it was still likely nothing more than a bite.

The day we left Buenos Aires for Bariloche, I felt a stinging on my foot. I ripped off my sock and identified the source of the pain, which was another mosquit0 bite on my ankle bone. I tried not to worry about the fact that my body was becoming rather bumpy in various locations (just the two, though) and proceeded to pack. Now this is where it becomes pretty unsavory... on the bus, Sam noticed that the bite on my arm didn't seem to be healing at all. We inspected the bump and saw the smallest of movements right where I had been bitten. Immediately, I felt my foot sting again and we saw something similar down there. It struck us then and there: HUMAN BOTFLY. A friend of ours at the farm had experienced the same thing, but the owners assured us that it was such an anomaly, and it certainly wasn't the season for this occurrence. Basically, the human botfly (endemic to certain jungle/tropical areas around the world) captures and lays eggs on a mosquito then releases it. When that mosquito bites a person, an egg enters the wound and becomes the botfly larvae: a tiny white worm that lives under the skin for a period until it's strong enough to leave the nest, and it just pops itself out and goes on with its life, without a word of thanks to its poor host. This period takes about 8 weeks, and while it's an incredibly disgusting thought, it's actually not really painful, other than occasional stinging. And if one were to let the botfly do its thing, the worm would eventually exit the body, having secreted antibiotics pretty much assuring that no infection would occur.

The thing is, most people don't really want to wait around for 8 weeks with a worm in the skin. I certainly didn't. So I frantically researched tactics and found a whole online community of people sharing their lovely botfly experiences. It turns out the easiest way to deal with one is to duct tape the wound, thereby asphyxiating the worm within about 24 hours. In order to survive, it needs to breathe through the opening in the skin. In fact, when I noticed some movement on the bus, that's exactly what I was witnessing. As soon as Sam and I arrived in Bariloche, we taped over the two bites and waited... and waited. The next day, we removed the tape from my ankle and, lo and behold, a bit of worm was sticking out. Sam set to squeezing the area (as you're supposed to do), and the entire thing just popped out. GROSS. The wound looked like a tiny black hole. At this point, it's already healed almost completely. The arm was a little more disgusting, as the worm was slightly farther along in its progress. But we still shot it out and I'm finally worm-free... hopefully forever!

This is one of those experience that, had someone prophesized it, I wouldn't have believed that a. it would happen, and b. if it were to happen, I wouldn't freak out. But I haven't freaked out! I mean, when Sam removed the tape, I refused to look until he declared without question that the worms were indeed dead and ready for removal. But I've survived, physically and emotionally intact. Oh, I should add that I named the worms: Mildred and Gertrude, may they rest in peace. I'm linking two photos.

This is one of the dead worms, post-removal, resting on a surgical glove: http://i450.photobucket.com/albums/qq222/inca-roads/10-Patagonia/DSC_1153.jpg

The second is a photo of my arm after the worm was squeezed out. Another warning, pretty disgusting: http://i450.photobucket.com/albums/qq222/inca-roads/10-Patagonia/DSC_1150.jpg

So now all is well! I'm pleased to have retired from hosting parasitic creatures under my skin. But seriously, as appalling and upsetting as all of this may sound, in the end, it was very bearable and made for a pretty amazing story. The most painful part of the entire experience was taking the duct tape off of my skin. Hope I haven't grossed you out too much. I promise to ensure that I'm bug-free when I return to the US! Luckily, I won't be engaging in any more visits (during this trip, at least) to botfly regions.

Love,
Ally (and the ghosts of Mildred & Gertrude)