Spooooooooon!

KARLSHAMN - "I am trying not to panic."

I made this statement very slowly and carefully. Pronouncing each word precisely as I looked Jenny in the eyes, more so for myself and my own state of mind than anything else.

She looked at me very seriously (this was the last time she would be able to for the next hour or so) and said quietly, "OK..."

We were in Karlshamn visiting her aunt and uncle. It was a fairly small town that seemed to be mostly a vacationing spot. There was ample camping nearby and a carnival had taken over the center of town for the weekend. Most of her family had left for the lake a while before to go water-skiing and tubing. A couple of people remained.

I continued to stare at her, not knowing how to say what I had to say while knowing full well there was really only one way to spit it out.

She continued to stare back, looking a bit concerned but certainly less concerned than myself. "What's wrong?" she asked. "You look like you're going to cry..."

Let's step back a few minutes.

I'm in the bathroom (yeah, I know... way too much bathroom discussion lately...) As I'm going to the bathroom, I glance downward and notice something peculiar.

Huh, I think to myself. I was staring at a small scratch but for the life of me couldn't recall scratching myself or accidentally getting anything stuck in a zipper recently.

I found myself still staring and feeling utterly confused. Something wasn't adding up right and I could feel my brain trying to make connections between what I knew and what my consciousness wanted to be aware of...

A memory flashed through my head. Nothing old. In fact, a memory of a conversation I had just an hour before.

"What do you call the tiny mosquitoes that bite you and you have to pull them out?" Jenny asked.

We were standing outside with her cousin's wife, Stina. I was confused but had become used to this feeling when discussing bugs here. There seem to be a wide variety of insects I have never encountered and there are different names for them. For instance, Älmhult is infested with mosquitoes. Not necessarily any different mosquitoes than what I am used to Illinois, except that here there are names for the different ones.

In a past conversation I was asked what we call a tiny mosquito.

"Oh. 'Tiny Mosquito.'"

And then what we call the really big mosquitoes.

"Oh. 'Big Freakin' Mosquitoes.'"

Apparently, we are kind of boring in America with our logic. Here there are separate names for all the different kinds.

So, as we are standing outside with Stina and Jenny is describing this mosquito, I find myself confused.

"Gee... I don't know any mosquito you have to pull out."

We discuss it for a second as they try to explain to me what they mean.

Aha, I realize they just mean a bloodsucker.

"'Tick.' You mean a 'tick.'"

We all find ourselves nodding. I explain that the ticks I am used to are not small at all and are quite large. They tell me about the ticks they have there. Rather small little things.

Let's jump forward again, shall we?

As I was saying, this conversation flashed through my head very quickly in the bathroom as my brain struggled to get this information through to the conscious part of me.

It succeeded in doing so right around the time I saw the scratch move.

Now let's jump forward to the kitchen.

"Seriously... are you OK?" Jenny asked, beginning to look very concerned.

I asked her, "Do you remember the conversation we had earlier?" I desperately wanted her to just get it so I didn't have to talk anymore.

"Which one?"

"The one outside... about the ticks?" I whispered.

"Oh... did you get one?" The concern started to slip out of her voice. I pictured her thinking, No big deal.

I just stared.

"Where is it?" she asked.

I kept staring. I widened my eyes just a bit and did my very best to shoot mind-bullets at her, sending the information through without actually having to say it myself.

"Where?" she asked again.

I kept staring but glanced downward.

A smile cracked her face. I realized, as I resisted crying like I kind of wanted to, this was the last time she was going to take me seriously for the remainder of the day.

"Nej..." she said as she started to turn away. It soon wouldn't matter. Turning away wasn't going to prevent me from hearing the laughter.

As the sheer panic started to wear its way through, Jenny fought back laughter and tears to bravely ask Stina if she had a pair of tweezers. Stina went out to look through a bag in her car and brought some back up to the house.

"Where's it at?" she asked.

I just smiled politely and said, "Can I have the tweezers, please?"

As I stood in the bathroom door, Jenny let me know in a cracking voice as she fought back giggles that she had pulled ticks out before for people.

"You know... If you need any help."

I shut the bathroom door and locked it.

As I stared down at my new nemesis, my anxiety was kind enough to create a series of horrible scenarios that involved gushing blood, tick heads staying behind to cause terrible infections, and finally culminating with the fear that a doctor would deliver the line, "We are going to have to amputate."

I gritted my teeth, grabbed hold with the tweezers, and yanked.

And yanked.

And yanked.

And yanked.

That sucker was not coming easy and this went on about 20 times.

Tears almost came at one point.

Then... I won.

As I stared at the little bugger, crushed and intact (head and all), I realized I have never felt so guilt-free about killing anything before in my life.

I said goodbye to what little remained of my dignity as the news slowly filtered through all of Jenny's family over the course of the day.

Stina walked up at one point, holding the tweezers, and just simply asked, "Did you clean them?"

I nodded. She chuckled and walked away.

The good news is that a great rhyme came out of the whole ordeal:

Nick got a Tick on his...

Oh, jeez. Would you look at the time. Gotta go!