I had to go to the ER for what I thought was a tick bite. Well, more than a tick bite, a rash from a bite. A round rash. A perfectly round rash encircling my belly button. Who checks for ticks in their belly button? I do, now. Before, however, never. 

There can be lots of stuff such as lint, sweat, maybe even hairs, in a naval. Mine is no exception. Inside my button was a dark spot that looked like a buried tick. Too buried actually. Is this a mole? I wondered. Or is it a deadly tick? I consulted Doctor AI, and here’s what Chatgpt said:

“Ticks have mouthparts called hypostomes that are barbed and can penetrate the skin. Once attached, the tick inserts its hypostome into the skin and begins to feed on blood. As the tick feeds, it releases saliva and other substances that can cause inflammation and irritation.

The tick may remain attached for several days, during which time it can burrow deeper into the skin. This can make it difficult to remove the tick. 

If you suspect a tick burrowed under your skin, it is important to seek medical attention for proper removal. Attempting to remove the tick yourself can damage the skin or increase the risk of infection.”

Unfortunately, I consulted AI after I made mincemeat of said tick that might have been a mole. When the circular infection didn’t go away, I went to the ER.

I’m not going to say which ER. It could have been Wayne, Harris or Garnet in Callicoon. It could be that I’m in Canada. Here is what happened.

“I think I have an infection,” I said to the nurse as I showed her the reddish donut around my button. 

“It’s not an infection,” she snapped, “It’s inflammation.” I appreciated her positive attitude. I’ll send Dave to look at it.

Dave was the NP with as much good looks as he had attitude. I didn’t know if I should love or hate the guy. He gestured for me to lay in the bed. 

“I have a bug bite and lying in bed ain’t gonna help that,” I said. Still, he wanted me to lie down, but when I complained of a bad back, he stopped insisting.

In showing him the bite, Dave piped, “It’s an infection.” For a moment, I thought about telling Dave that the nurse disagreed, but I had already made enough trouble. He said I have, “Cellulitis.” I was offended. If I have cellulite at all, it’s in places he’s never seen, and will never see.

And then he added, “Cellulitis Umbilicus” and I thought that sounded a lot better, more like a disease and not excess fat. And then we argued because it’s my job to argue with the medical profession. 

“This is not Lyme’s,” he claimed.

“How can you know for sure?”

“It doesn’t look like a Lyme’s bite,” he added.

“The last time I had Lyme’s the rash looked like the state of Connecticut.” I informed. Again, he insisted it wasn’t Lyme’s, and yet, he suggested I ask my primary for a Lyme’s test. 

Dave reminded me that Lyme’s comes with other symptoms like fever, chills, muscle aches, joint pain, swollen lymph nodes, and more. The last time I had Lyme’s, I couldn’t walk. Before I left, Dave ordered Doxycycline, an antibiotic that treats Cellulitis Umbilicus, and coincidentally Lyme’s. 

Because I dislike medications, especially antibiotics, I double-checked Dave’s suggestion with AI, who told me, “Bug bites can sometimes become infected, leading to cellulitis. Untreated or severe cellulitis can lead to sepsis, a life-threatening complication. Symptoms of infection can include increased redness, swelling, pain, pus, fever, and swollen glands.” So far, I have none of that. I filled the script, just in case.

RAMONA JAN is the Founder and Director of Yarnslingers, a storytelling group that tells tales both fantastic and true. She is also the roving historian for Callicoon, NY and is often seen giving tours around town. You can email her at callicoonwalkingtours@gmail.com.