Big D and me

Some of you know the start of this story, but I'll tell the whole thing for those that don't.

While in the Bolivian Pampas, all the girls were bitten several hundred times each, some even through their mosqito repellant pants.

One of my bites stayed with me for a long, long time. At first I thought it was a bite that I had scratched open and infected. Two courses of antibiotics, and a large number of non-drinking days, later, we scrapped that theory because the bite didn't get any better.

Then I moved on to the spider bite theory, which was semi-confirmed by a doctor visit in Mendoza - which included a hypodermic needle, I will spare you the details of that. This was 4 weeks after the day I figured I got the bite.

By this time, the bite was pretty much stable. It wasn't getting any worse, but no better either. It was a swelling on my back that just wouldn't heal.

The bite would also hurt every now and then, maybe twice or three times a day. The pain was so intense and sudden that sometimes I would actually jump. It felt as if someone was sticking a small knife into me, and twisting it around and around.

There were many discussions, and jokes, about it. There were even some cruel people that nicknamed it my "back herpes", I won't name any names, Tara and Charlie. Of course there were those people, pretty much everyone actually, that insisted I had a maggot, or something, growing in me. I poo-poo'd those thoughts, and the idiots who had them. That kind of thing only happens in the movies. Seriously.

Then Tara and I went to Mar del Plata, and had a lovely day at the aquarium. That night all the action happened.

This is where any sensitive viewers should switch the TV to another channel. I'm going to be very graphic here, in the hopes that you will experience even a fraction of the horror that I did that night.

I was in the bathroom, doing my usual inspection of the bite, prodding and poking it to see if it was any better. I noticed something coming out of it, and thought that it was pus, but it went back in. So I squeezed a little more, and then sqealed. It still looked like pus, but a lot of it. I called for Tara to come and help, well, actually to share in the grossness of it all.

The more I squeezed the more came out, until eventually it popped out and onto the floor.
"where did it go?" I squealed again.
I looked around on the floor and found it, ten picked it up with a piece of toilet paper. That was when we realised it was a larva of some kind.

It took pretty much all the self control I have to not freak out, or throw up, and that feeling did not pass for several hours.

Tara mentioned throwing it away, but I had to keep it. There was no way I was going to see a doctor without being able to show them wat it ws that popped out of me. I was definately going to see a doctor, I had to know if there was just one. Where to find a doctor was the next drama.

We took photos, as you do, for prosperity, and rushed off to the pharmacy up the road. I asked them where we could find a doctor that spoke English. Unfortunately for me, the pharmacy happened to be full of doctors from an Orthopeadic and Trauma conference who thought they could speak English. Eventually I had 3 doctors around me, with one civilian woman helping to translate. These guys were fascinated, I don't think they get out much. Awed by the pictures, and a slightly dodgy translation, they prodded at the hole in my back. They couldn't really help though, and we decided to go to the hospital.

Here we found a fantastically friendly woman doctor who spoke very good English. She took my money and we went off into the back rooms to show her what the fuss was all about.

I showed her the hole, and she immediately said that it was an infection.
"Ah, but wait," I said, "there's more.
When I unwrapped the offending bug, she agreed that it was rather disgusting when prompted by Tara. She went upstairs to find someone who knew about these things, leaving us alone in the room with Big D, which is what we have come to call him.

At this point Big D had actually started wriggling around. It was one of the most horrifyingly fascinating things I have ever seen in my entire life, not least because this thing had just come out of me. I was, once again, called upon to summon all my strength to not scream and vomit all over the nice clean hospital floor.

Still, we couldn't look away, and yet more photo's were taken - from all angles. We were actually a little disappointed when the doctor came back to take Big D upstairs to show to the Biochemist. It was the last I would ever see of the only living thing to grow inside me. I was not exactly sad.

When the doctor came back down again, she said she had good news. There was only one of these little buggers inside me, and there would be no side effects, or ripping open of my ribcage to the screaming horror of my shipmates. I was relieved.

Big D turned out to be the larva of the Human Bot Fly, we called him Big D because his scientific name is Dermatobia Hominis. The Bot fly captures a mosquito and lays eggs all over it before releasing it on unsuspecting tourists. These tourists then unknowingly incubate the egg, and provide a wonderfully warm, wet and bountiful environment for the larva.
You can check out more, assuming you want to, at: Human bot fly

I happened to be lucky, believe it or not. Usually the larva takes 9 weeks to reach maturity, at about twice the size mine was, and then leaves the host. I had unknowingly managed to starve it of oxygen using cream and plasters and it came out for air a few weeks early.

WARNING!!!
These are not for the faint hearted...