I have a huge fear of parasitic beings. Everyone has their big phobia; mine is tapeworm, ticks, lice—just about any parasite you can think of (oh, and maggots). Some of this stems from childhood experience; some of it is from seeing the movie The Faculty, or at least that’s what I blame. I can stand mosquitoes and fleas, for some reason, but anything else that wants my blood gives me the heebie jeebies.
I even used to sleep with my hair over my ears so nothing could crawl in and deposit eggs and eat my brain! And even though that is a ridiculous form of prevention, I must admit that I sometimes still even do that, especially after watching a scary movie.
So when my best friend, a registered nurse, took a look at what I thought was a mole on my hand and pronounced it ringworm, I nearly fainted. I started to scream. I told her to get a knife and to cut my hand off lest the worms infest my body, nevermind that the mark had been there for weeks. I nearly cried, but I was so upset that I could only manage sheer horror.
Though you probably believe this to be exaggeration on my part, none of it is.
