The pseudo-suede recliner has had a place in my living room for years. I relied on it through hip replacement recovery, back spasms, and became my bed when "the real McCoy" proved too uncomfortable for me to sleep in.
Spooky and I often disagree about whose chair the recliner is. My cat is quite territorial about it.
Of course, over the years the chair has suffered from multiple coffee and food spills. The stains are somewhat camouflaged by the light brown fabric.
What gets me about the recliner is that, occasionally, an ant appears on my arm. "Where did THAT come from?" I wonder. This happens more often when it rains, so I didn't think too much about it until yesterday.
Let me backtrack to mid-October. I was sitting in my usual spot when I felt a distinctive bite to the middle right side of my back. A quick check in the bathroom mirror reflected a bulls-eye bump. This confirmed in my mind that a tick must have been carried indoors on my clothing. Daunting visions of Lyme Disease or Rocky Spotted Mountain fever came to mind. I'm really good at scaring myself.
My doctor was quick to prescribe antibiotics. The wound grew to cover a third of my back, pus emanating from three distinct sources. This was so concerning that I had to wait a week for the wound specialist to book me as a new patient. At that time, my sore spot was covered by a 5" x 9" bandage. Smaller gauze pads wouldn't do.
This was when having a roommate would have helped. One can't imagine the contortions it took to position the dressing over the just-out-of-reach site below the bra line. As my left hand held a mirror, the right held a comb to spread out and adhere the bandage to the far reaches of my back. AWKWARD!
The new doc gave me silver-backed padding and a slew of other dressings to use. No doctor, GP or specialist, ever took a blood sample or hazarded a guess as to what exactly bit me. After a few weeks, I was told that the wound healed. What looks like a red bruise is all that is left to remember it by. Eventually, it will fade away (I hope).
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I thought no more about the brown recliner until yesterday as I binge-watched Netflix from my favorite seat. My left knee suddenly became really sore. I moved into the bathroom to get my arthritis gel.
Oh, no! I had been bitten again! The pustule was red with a yellow dot at the center. A few hours later, the bite had become completely red.
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So, I've come to the difficult conclusion that the old recliner has got to go. There may be an ant's nest inside it, which is gross enough to think about, but the possibility (or likelihood) that it may be infested with fire ants is the icing on the cake!
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For the time being, I've ceded ownership of the recliner to Spooky. If it ever stops raining and I can get a neighbor to help me put the chair on the curb, that's what I'll do.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think that a piece of furniture could betray me so. As I rub the swollen spot on the back of my neck, the depth of betrayal becomes evident. Bite number three!
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How can Spooky look so comfy, curled up as she is? I envy her and only wish to emulate her placid pose before three pillows.
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