A few weeks ago, I was in my backyard trying to fix my old, rusty lawnmower. It seems like it only works on willpower and rust. I will remember this event for a long time. It was the kind of moment that happens out of the blue while you’re doing something boring and stays with you long after the lawn has been mowed and the sun has set. I will always remember what happened. The kind of moment that comes out of nowhere when you’re doing something mundane and remains with you long after you’ve mowed the grass and the sun has set.
It was one of those summer afternoons when it was hot and muggy and everything moved slowly. It was so hot outside that I felt like I was trying to breathe through a sponge. I had been putting off mowing the lawn for too long, so there were a lot of weeds, dry spots that made noise when you walked on them, and blades that were way too tall and waving in the breeze like they were making fun of me.
My golden dog Mochi was sleeping down in his usual spot under the big oak tree near the gate. He looked like a postcard of summer happiness: his tongue was out, his belly was to the wind, and he was completely pleased in the shade. I was also sweating a lot and pulling a lawnmower that coughed and groaned every few feet, as if it may die right there on the crabgrass.
I was halfway across the yard, not paying attention, and in a “just get it over with” mood when I felt something crawl up my ankle. You know that feeling, like a gradual, intentional tickle that makes your skin crawl. I thought it was a bug. Since I started mowing, I had already killed five or six. I looked down, annoyed, and thought I would see a small lump I knew.
But it wasn’t a bug.
There was a tick. Not just any tick, but a lone star tick. It was there, with its little legs wrapped around my ankle, and the white dot on its back that looked like a bullseye was staring right at me. My heart fell. I stood still and felt a wave of horror sweep over me. I could feel every inch of my skin. I bent down carefully so I wouldn’t squish it, and then I delicately took it off with a tissue I had in my pocket. I put it in an empty snack bag I had packed for Mochi’s treats, shut it up, and stood there for a minute to collect my breath.
I knew enough about ticks that I couldn’t just let them go. People think that the lone star tick is creepy. It has to do with alpha-gal syndrome, which is when your immune system suddenly targets red meat. Yes, if you eat one, you might never be able to eat bacon, burgers, or meat again. At first, I thought it was one of those crazy online stories, but it’s true. People can have really significant allergic reactions, and the symptoms can start hours after they eat. I had a short chill of apprehension since I like a medium-rare ribeye.
I went straight to the restroom when I got home. I cleansed the bitten location with soap and warm water, put antiseptic on it, and then stood in front of the mirror for way too long looking for any more bugs on my arms, legs, and waist. Mochi also had a full check-up. He believed it was a game and laid over so I could give him belly rubs. He thumped his tail while I combed his fur with a fine-toothed brush.
It was really stressful for the next few days. I kept an eye on the bite by taking images of it with my phone. I used Google too much. I didn’t eat red meat “just in case,” and I was worried about every little thing that happened in my stomach. Even though I didn’t feel any bodily pain and the bite didn’t get bigger, it stayed on my mind. I didn’t expect to feel so anxious at the thought that something small and seemingly harmless might have such a big effect. But it also made me take things more seriously. I didn’t think I’d be so anxious about the idea that something so small and sneaky could have such a big impact.
But it also made me take things seriously. I realized that I had not been as careful outside as I thought I had been. I always imagined that ticks were more of a problem for those who stroll or camp than for folks who mow the grass. But lone star ticks don’t care. They don’t wait until you’re deep in the woods. They grow nicely in gloomy areas, tall grass, and piles of leaves. They also move to more states every year.
That means I made some changes. I bought tick spray, and now I spray my shoes, socks, and the bottoms of my jeans before I walk outside. Even when it’s hot, I wear long pants and tuck them into my socks when I go through thick grass. I run a lint roller over my clothes by the rear door before I go inside. Even if we’re only gone for a few minutes, I check on Mochi every time. It’s worth it to spend money for peace of mind.
What started out as a routine summer chore evolved into a wake-up call. It made me realize how simple it is to forget about our regular lives and how important it is to be alert, even in our own backyards. I will still mow the yard and Mochi will still nap under the oak tree. However, I am now more careful, attentive, and respectful of the things we can’t see in our environment. The tiniest things can be the most hazardous at times.
Since then, I haven’t eaten any red meat. Not because I can’t, but because I’m still watching, waiting, and learning what my body might tell me next.