Yesterday, I noticed an itch.
The itch was comparable to a mosquito bite, but not quite as persistent or maddening. I woke up to the itch on my left lower forearm. Throughout the morning, in complete honesty, I scratched my arm more than I should have, to the point my arm was quite red. I went about my day attempting to ignore the itch. I tried hydrocortisone cream before I left for class, but it didn’t help. I went to class and was absent-mindedly scratching through my lectures. When I looked down at lunchtime, the redness had progressed into blood spots below my skin. In the middle of the area I had been itching, I noticed what appeared to be a whitehead. Or at least, that’s what I thought it was.
Last night I had a date with a guy that I met through work. I work in a smaller grocery store, part-time, to attend my classes. If I have a type at all, it would be Brendan: tall, dark-featured, funny, and handsome. I never thought that he would ask me out. I consider myself to be average. I have long brown hair, brown eyes, and I’m a bit taller than most girls. When Brendan asked for my phone number and a drink, I couldn’t help but say yes.
I didn’t consider the itching a huge issue as I got ready for my date. The whitehead on my arm was pretty sizable and noticeable with the redness from the itching. I decided to wrap the section of my arm that I was itching with gauze and more hydrocortisone.
I met Brendan at a local bar downtown. The bar was pretty busy, with people coming and going, lots of drunk and boisterous groups. Brendan had saved a seat for me next to him at the bar, I ordered myself a Jack and Coke. Our conversation went kinda like this:
“Hey, I’m glad you made it. I was kinda scared you’d ghost me, to be honest.”
I laughed, “You’re out of my league, what are you talking about? Why would I ghost you?”
He smiled, “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You shouldn’t do that. You’re better than that.”
I had butterflies for the first time in a long time. It felt good.
Brendan had to work early today and we went our separate ways after a few hours and more than a few drinks.
I got home and pissed like a racehorse. On the toilet, I took off the gauze from my arm to reveal the whitehead was practically bulging from my arm. Like the idiot that I am, I decided I was going to try and pop it.
I first just used my fingers to try and get leverage to pop what I thought was the tip of the whitehead. Nothing came from my first attempts except a searing pain on my arm, it almost felt like a really bad pimple on your lip. The area around the whitehead was sweating and incredibly irritated from the scratching.
With my fingers only making things more painful, I got off the toilet and grabbed my tweezers from the counter. It felt like the pus within the whitehead was shifting from my probing. I brought my arm to the light to try and see better, but the light didn’t reveal anything that I hadn’t already seen. Before trying to pop the whitehead with the tweezers, I ran my entire forearm under hot water for at least twenty seconds. It fucking stung. The area around the whitehead now felt completely raw. My fingers were twitching from pain.
I brought the tweezers to the tip of the whitehead to try to break the skin. I thought breaking the skin would at least relieve some of the pressure. After a few minutes of pussying out and not pressing hard enough, the skin broke. Tears came to my eyes at this point, the pain was sharp but I told myself I was already committed to popping it. I tried with my fingers again, with the whitehead tip broken, and attempted to squeeze out some pus.
No pus came out. Blood seeped around the sides of the broken skin, almost taunting me. It wasn’t even that much blood. I became more frustrated. None of the pressure was relieved.
I grabbed the tweezers again. Probably not the smartest move on my part, but I was frustrated. I grabbed the edge of the skin I had already broken, painfully, and decided to expand the small hole I had already made at the tip of the whitehead.
I pulled a bit too hard, and the thin skin at the tip of the whitehead ripped further than I intended. It was like pulling a cuticle too far away from your fingernail, only worse. Tears rolled down my face, and I made audible noises. I sat for a moment to gather myself, hoping the pain would subside a little bit. I think a solid minute, maybe two passed before I looked at my arm again. I was bleeding more, a small stream of blood rolled from the place I tore the skin back.
I took a deep breath and tried a different angle with my fingers. My thumb now at the bottom of the whitehead and my index finger pushing downwards against it at the same time. I felt the pus shift again within the whitehead. I got excited, finally feeling a slight bit of relief from the pressure. A bit of pus finally looked like it was emerging from the hole. My arm was burning from pushing my right hand on already irritated skin. I pressed harder.
White pulsed from the wound but stopped after only a second of coming out. I was irritated, I could tell that not everything was out. Blood oozed around the bit of pus that I was able to push out. I was grinding my teeth at this point, the entire area was on fire. After a couple of deep breaths, I stared at what I was able to push out. It was a bit of a yellowish color once it was out of my skin. The wound began to give off a slight smell, a light cheese smell that was definitely infection. The smell brought a wave of nausea over me.
Using my fingers, I pulled on the small amount of pus that I was able to push out. I expected the pus to be a soft and slimy texture that would honestly smear- but it was firm. Slowly, I pulled the chunk of pus out of my skin. At the point where I thought I had most of it out, (I have no way to describe it other than this) it broke off from the piece that was still in my skin.
I sighed, at least I had some of it out. My skin and the wound were angrier than I had seen it so far. The burning and throbbing felt like a punishment for my persistence. After a few moments, I looked to inspect what I had pulled out and was still holding between my index finger and thumb.
It wasn’t pus.
I noticed one small leg. Then multiple legs. I felt like I was going to vomit.
The legs were nearly invisible but they were there. I wasn’t imagining this. I know I didn’t imagine this. I then also noticed small brown speckles as I was looking at the chunk I just pulled out of my skin.
I pulled a fucking bug out of my skin.
After the realization of pulling a chunk of a bug out of my skin, I started to panic. I immediately had to get the rest of this bug out. How the fuck did it even get there? WHO has bugs just come out of their skin?
I immediately started pushing on my skin and the blood started coming faster, but I didn’t care. Looking back, I think the adrenaline of noticing I had just pulled a bit of bug from my arm numbed the pain. I started making noticeable progress quickly this time, and the rest of the bug started coming out of the hole.
Pushing the rest of the bug out felt like popping an actual pimple. The rest of it only took one solid squeeze with my fingers and it pushed completely out. I was holding my breath the entire time and felt sick to my stomach. I took a deep huff of a breath out and then examined the second half.
The second half was pretty much the same as the first: nearly translucent legs, brown dots on the side of the body of the bug. But this side had the head.
The head was also brown, with small-looking pinschers at the bottom of the head. Seeing the head, I realized what it was.
A maggot.
A maggot was nestled in my arm. I had confused it, for a fucking whitehead. And it was a maggot the entire time.
A wave of nausea came over my body and I couldn’t stop myself from vomiting. There was a sizable stream of blood coming from the small hole that I had pulled the maggot out of, and blood smeared on my toilet as I gripped the sides of the bowl. My arm now has a hole in it, and I’m struggling to come to grips with the fact that there was a maggot in there.
I wiped my face and spent a good hour inspecting the hole, paranoid of more being just inside my arm that I couldn’t see. I took a shower and couldn’t help inspecting all over myself for any more “whiteheads.”
How the fuck did this happen. I am fucking clean. Where the fuck did that thing come from?
It took until 3 a.m. for me to fall asleep last night, and my dreams certainly did me no favors. I feel lost and scared. I’m not sure what’s going on with me but that’s all I have for right now. I’ll update when I can. Thanks for listening.