GOOD TO KNOW:Student battles bat; mysterious marks; rabies from bat fluids; five shots or Old Yeller
Jillian Melchior
Issue date: 3/6/08 Section: News
A bat's descent from its lurking hangout upon my ceiling down to the space also coincidentally occupied by my head merely began an extremely unpleasant sequence of events.
Turns out, the flying vermin of Hillsdale County carry rabies more frequently than usual - nothing I contemplated fled from the nasty thing.
No, the woe brought by the bat did not end when my brave neighbor rescued me using my freshly laundered towel to let the little demon free. (She did not flog it to a pulp, sadly.)
The next day, I found out about the unfortunate bat and rabies statistic at about the same time I discovered a little bump on my foot that looked like a bite. They bite you in your sleep. Even if it wasn't a bite, I learned, I could catch rabies from bat fluid. And because I had literally stared evil in the face, I became more and more distraught at the idea of a flying rat defecating on my belongings and licking everything I might touch.
Even watching "The Office" did not make me feel better. I sympathized with Angela: "Poop! Poop is raining from the ceiling."
Two choices remained: I could die foaming at the mouth like Old Yeller, or I could submit to shots in my stomach. Waiting it out was not an option, they told me. By the time rabies symptoms pop up, you shall surely die.
So I headed to the hospital. The nurse walked somberly into my room carrying a daunting fistful of needles and hot pink vaccine.
"I can promise you two things," she said. "This will not be fun, and this will hurt."
Five shots, though not in the stomach anymore, thanks to medical advancements.
But in hindsight, two of them exposed me to quite a pain in the rear, if you get my drift. Two more in the legs, one in the arm, and I had four more rounds to go, though the rest of the doses would be only in the arms.
Honestly, they didn't hurt as badly as the nurse said they would, which was lucky for me, because the hospital did not give me a rag or a bullet to bite while they stabbed my posterior. After, I was sore, but no worse than after an intense workout.
So the good news is, I won't die batty, but I do have Looney Tunes Band-Aids from head to toe.
And my purple towel used to trap the creature still lies in my yard, where I am sure bats return to do their business on it. I refuse to pick it up.
For more, click here.
Turns out, the flying vermin of Hillsdale County carry rabies more frequently than usual - nothing I contemplated fled from the nasty thing.
No, the woe brought by the bat did not end when my brave neighbor rescued me using my freshly laundered towel to let the little demon free. (She did not flog it to a pulp, sadly.)
The next day, I found out about the unfortunate bat and rabies statistic at about the same time I discovered a little bump on my foot that looked like a bite. They bite you in your sleep. Even if it wasn't a bite, I learned, I could catch rabies from bat fluid. And because I had literally stared evil in the face, I became more and more distraught at the idea of a flying rat defecating on my belongings and licking everything I might touch.
Even watching "The Office" did not make me feel better. I sympathized with Angela: "Poop! Poop is raining from the ceiling."
Two choices remained: I could die foaming at the mouth like Old Yeller, or I could submit to shots in my stomach. Waiting it out was not an option, they told me. By the time rabies symptoms pop up, you shall surely die.
So I headed to the hospital. The nurse walked somberly into my room carrying a daunting fistful of needles and hot pink vaccine.
"I can promise you two things," she said. "This will not be fun, and this will hurt."
Five shots, though not in the stomach anymore, thanks to medical advancements.
But in hindsight, two of them exposed me to quite a pain in the rear, if you get my drift. Two more in the legs, one in the arm, and I had four more rounds to go, though the rest of the doses would be only in the arms.
Honestly, they didn't hurt as badly as the nurse said they would, which was lucky for me, because the hospital did not give me a rag or a bullet to bite while they stabbed my posterior. After, I was sore, but no worse than after an intense workout.
So the good news is, I won't die batty, but I do have Looney Tunes Band-Aids from head to toe.
And my purple towel used to trap the creature still lies in my yard, where I am sure bats return to do their business on it. I refuse to pick it up.
For more, click here.
Viewing Comments 1 - 1 of 1
Michael (Bat Removal Guy) Koski
posted 3/06/08 @ 4:26 PM EST
I often hear stories like yours - but never put so well! I love your comment "stared evil in the face". I am glad you let your readers know the shots are no longer in the stomach. (Continued…)
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