Some people I know, when relating their or their family’s medical problems describe them as being very rare, something seldom found in the textbooks, a rather special case. Having observed how much better they are after telling me of their peculiar condition I am considering a venture to my doctor (who knows – even a specialist) so that I can feel a flush of excitement when talking about the invisible ant which has taken to biting my big toe.
I know the difference between an itch and a bite. Itches are scratched in situ and can afford one the pleasure of giving that spot a good workover and subduing it. A bite though is a serious offence – rugby players are banned for such – and the perpetrator must be identified and neutralised. But all I have for my doctor is the location and time: my left big toe and when I am asleep. As happened last night.
At my low watermark of 3 a.m. I awake to a needle of pain in that left big toe. I fold back the covers (carefully in the hope of seeing the invader at work) and observe the toe. It is, as always, in pristine condition, clad in the flesh of its birth, unblemished by the black dot of any burrowing agent. A second bite, sharp and short sets me off, scratching frantically in the hope of getting through the skin and finding the ant within. This does not help but distracts attention from the node of pain to my nails rasping the skin. There’s some relief when it ceases, but not for long. This time my right foot comes to the aid of its counterpart and rubs that toe…smoke begins to rise.
Ten minutes later, the physical assault having failed, external means are brought in: an ice pack, followed by a plaster drenched in calamine ointment. That the bite becomes an intermittent itch is hardly a success. It’s half-past-three, I have exhausted myself, the bedroom is infused with calamine, my wife is awake and the infernal internal has not been located. It’s probably having a nap.
I have resolved to call on my doctor and present him with my recurring condition. It will be obvious to him that I do, indeed, have a most peculiar malady, quite unlike anything he has ever seen, and will be recorded in medical textbooks and the next year of my conversations.
