8/29/08

Chunks--Hobos, Leanna, Julie, & Idaho State Fair


This doctor was looking at a Hobo spider bite on my leg today, which I got while weeding by the mailbox last week, and he said, "You needed to bring the spider in with you." . . . OK. It's hot. I'm tired and having a triple ornery month. I’ve had no summer—no camping, no fishing, no horses, no Pro-rodeos, no fresh mountain air--Plus, though I’ve made it a goal to watch my mouth (no laughing, Matt), I’m seldom able to keep it shut and act with any decorum or dignity when someone, who should know better, makes stupid stupid comments like that one. I say, “What?”
“It would help if we knew whether the spider was mature and/or male, since they have more venom than females.”
“Wow." I'm biting my lip. "I agree with you about older males."
And it goes downhill from there because I’m thinking, WHAT? WHAT! I mean what exactly is a “mature” spider? Does he wear spectacles, have perfectly groomed manners, know the best restaurants in New York, read the Washington Post with his poached eggs? It's been a long errand-running burn-out day, and suddenly I'm over the edge into that dark hysterical laughing that you know you'd better quit--or else.
"I'm sorry. I just wasn't thinking. I flipped out. I think I ripped all the spider’s freaking legs off and fed him half to the snakes and half to my cat.”
And, then it got worse. What is the matter with me?
“But, I can go try to find his brother and bring him in if you want. Actually, how do people do that? Run back to their garages and find steel gloves? Catch the spider in a butterfly net? Or call the fire department? And, how can you really tell if a spider is male or female anyway?”
I don’t want to know the answer. I don't think this guy has any answers about anything anyway. Besides, he’s standing wide-eyed with that what-is-the-quickest-way-to-get-HER-out-of-my-office look. But, while I’ve got his attention, I ask, “Is there anything anyone can really do about spider bites?”
“Well, yes, if we know for sure it was a Hobo Spider or, say, a Brown Recluse, we give you a treatment of antibiotics.”
Antibiotics? ANTIBIOTICS? Hasn’t this guy ever listened to Alanis Morrisette? I’m living on a planet with degree-carrying IDIOTS. (Edited out screaming.)
“OK, thanks,” I say on my way to pay money, cash I-could-have-have-bought- ice cream-with to the receptionist for listening to a foolish talking medical degree. “If I find the spider, I’ll bring it in.”

My advice? (Sorry David.) If you get bitten by a spider, wait until your leg is gray and putrid-smelling before you pay good money to hear what you could have looked up on the Internet.


Leanna, NO, that’s never too much information (except for the joke about Labor Day). We’re with you and excited. I’m betting on Sunday night.

Julie, I wish you’d “write” about your life. Title it “The First Year of a Solitary Affair.”(Not funny.) But, I think there’s a huge market for a book about “wives of medical students,” as long as it was strictly honest. Then, they’d know they’re not so alone.

Megan (daughter) is going to the Idaho State Fair in Blackfoot with me Monday afternoon, but she has to leave there for SLC around 4:00. So I’m following her down in my car to stay for the 7:30 Pro rodeo. If you’re bored, come with us or meet us (except not you, Leanna; you’re definitely NOT invited), so I don’t have to sit alone in the fairway waiting for the rodeo, as I delightfully watch a mish- match of wonderful people (scads of writing material), as I eat bits and pieces from all the food booths--corn on the cob, tiger ears (huge scones with honey butter), cotton candy-- and as I walk through the arts and crafts exhibitions, pay to see the Snake Lady (just kidding), or ride the Widow maker rides. Seriously, do come if you can. It’s a novel experience. (I really do love it.)

8 comments:

Jami said...

Sister Morgan,

Please tell me you didn't really get a Hobo spider bite on your leg? I HATE those spiders (as most of you well know from horror stories and nightmares I had from our last apt.) and they are incredibly dangerous. If your leg starts to get a weird bruise, go back to the Dr. immediately and just say you caught the spider and that it was male. That way they'll at least give you drugs. Idiots.

In any case, I hope you're kidding.

The fair sounds wonderful. Take pictures of the snake lady for me.

Matthew R. Hall, Esq. said...

I heard that hobo spiders actually reproduce by injecting their eggs into the open bite wounds.

That's a lie, but it's a fun thing to imagine a leg swelling up with bubbly purple sores that finally burst into little spiders.

Emily Poteet said...

Sis. Morgan,

Enjoy the state fair. Eat a hand-dipped corn dog. Mmm...my favorite. I read your blog and saw the open invitation to attend the fair, and for a brief moment I thought, "Oh good. Now Brad and I have something fun to do this weekend." Then I remembered how far away from Eastern Idaho I really live. I guess I'm just coping with the move well enough to forget how far from home I am.

I agree with Jami: Your doctor is an idiot. Brad promises that if he ever makes it to medical school and becomes a doctor, he won't be that dumb. In fact, he can just be your doctor. We'll go wherever you go. You can take care of us emotionally, Brad will cure you of all strange bites, and I'll make dinner. Let me know if you're in.

Julie M said...

Sis. Morgan-- I hope you aren't sick. Go back to a different doctor if you feel badly. That one was an idiot. The thing is--doctors are just like people. There are good people and there are bad people. There are good doctors and there are bad doctors. Don't worry Sis. Morgan, David won't be like that. He'll be a good doctor, like the one that saw me on Tuesday after my nervous break down. You think I'm kidding, I'm not. I really did find a kind, compassionate doctor who listens! And I also did have a nervous breakdown.

Eat a tiger ear for me, okay?

EmPo- The only way this will work is if you find a position for David and I too. We could be the court jesters? Or maybe the bird identifiers. Or I could do the shopping. While you are at it, find positions for Jami and Travis. We all want to come.

Matt-that was a disgusting image. That really should not be in anyone's mind--let alone one who has just been bitten by spiders. I swear, God only gave empathy to women. I'll leave it there.

Julie M said...

PS- I'm going to start working on that book. The more I see, the more I see.

Emily Poteet said...

Julie,

Consider it done. There are plenty of positions for all who are interested. We could build a little hamlet for us all to live in together.

Maybe we could send a request to heaven so that we can all live near each other there, too.

Crystal said...

Well, at least you did something. My younger brother got a wasp bite on his hand, and it's so swollen you can't see his knuckles, but he refused to even put ice on it, because he wanted to see just how far it would swell. I think he sucked down too much helium at my sister's wedding (that was entertaining - the groom's side of the family was outside getting drunk, while the bride's side was inside inhaling all the helium balloons and singing 'Somewhere over the rainbow")

Matt, that was absolutely disgusting.

I hate, loathe, and detest spiders.

By the way, I'm coming to Rexburg for a week. But I refuse to help you look for the spider. Unless I can wear big boots, gloves, and carry a large can of raid. (I just used almost two cans of it on the wasp nest I found on my car, but I still have more)

Sky said...

Jami & Crystal, I'm so so sorry about the post. I completely forgot that you're partially arachnophobic. I can't imagine someone writing about snakes like that. But, really, it was mostly my fault. This snooty spider just crawled up by my hand and stood there looking at me, like, "Hey, you're in my territory." So, I say to him, "Listen here, you little crap face, I own this land now," and smacked him over the head with my garden spade. But, then I couldn't find him, so I think he just jumped to his death in my clothes. Most spider bites are dry, unless it's a defensive bite. Megan came and bought Neosporin. It's shrunk way down, and the white center is gone. And, hey, that spider is in hell now forever. And, don't listen to Matt; he admits to being socially disabled. And I don't know where else he could work on campus that is going to cure him completely of that. He'll learn. No more spider talk. I promise.