Vacation Drama: There's a Bug in My Ear!

I was exhausted. It was only the second night of my two-week Florida vacation, but I had spent all day at Hollywood Studios, in 38-degree heat. It was 5:00 in the morning, and I had been peacefully sleeping, dreaming of Goofy and Mickey Mouse, and all the wonderful sights I had seen at Disneyworld, when suddenly I was awakened by the terrifying sensation of something crawling into my ear! Shrieking, I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Something was definitely there, in my ear. I could feel it moving around, crawling deeper inside. It was loud. Grabbing a cup from the bathroom counter, I filled it with water and frantically splashed my ear, soaking the floor, my pajamas and almost everything around me. I didn't know what to do. Hearing the commotion, my husband groggily rose from the bed and looked in my ear. What the hell? He couldn't see anything. No hair. No bug. Not even a small piece of lint.

"I'm not crazy," I said. "There's a bug. I can feel it." Pacing around the bedroom, I clutched my ear tightly and groaned. What were the odds of something like this happening? Why was it happening to me? Was some bug taking revenge for me squishing his family? "Aaahh! Get it out!" I screamed.

Deciding to head to the lobby for help, I threw on some clothes, forgetting a bra. I guess when you have a bug in your ear; it's hard to think clearly. Leaving our sleeping children in our condo with friends, we tried our best to explain the situation. "You have an ear infection? What?" "No, a bug in my ear!" I explained. "I swear!"

Arriving at the lobby, disheveled, I told the poor night clerk at the reception desk what had happened. She just stood there and stared. What, did she think I would sue? I'm Canadian, eh. Just help me! After a few minutes of watching me pace around the lobby, heavily breathing and smacking my head, she picked up the phone and dialed 911. Oh my god, how embarrassing. Didn't they have some kind of doctor on site at the condo? I was mortified. They actually strapped me onto a stretcher and drove me to the hospital, in a fire truck! "Somebody call 911, a lady's got a bug in her ear, woooh!" The Fire Burning song by Sean Kingston kept playing through my mind, on rerun, with a new set of lyrics.

With my husband following the fire truck in our minivan, we arrived at the emergency department of Celebration Health, the Disneyworld hospital. It was deserted. Thank god. The last thing I needed was a huge wait time and a lobby full of spectators. In a semi-coherent state, I was escorted into a private room, while my husband tried to explain the situation, whether he believed it or not. Grabbing an otoscope, the nurse held onto my ear and took a good look. Just shining the light in my ear made the bug go crazy. She made a weird face.

"I don't want to know. I don't want to know. Just get it out!" I cried. As the nurse rolled me onto my side, I clutched the hospital bed in a death grip, thinking terrible thoughts. Was it eating my brain? Why did I watch all those horror flicks?

Picking up a large bottle of mineral oil, the nurse poured it into my ear, soaking my clothes and my hair. "Was it moving?" she asked. After an hour (okay maybe a minute) it wasn't. It was stunned. Then she plucked the bug from my ear using "alligator forceps". It was huge, some kind of large flying moth? "Did I want to keep it? Why? Could I sell it on e-Bay?"

With only eardrops in hand, I ran from the hospital unhurt, but emotionally traumatized. Is bug therapy covered? The next night at the condo I slept with wads of Kleenex stuffed in my ears. Our friends slept with ear buds. Now my husband blows on my ear as a joke while I'm trying to sleep. "If he doesn't watch out, I'll be singing another Sean Kingston tune. "Somebody call 911, my husband's got a bug in his..." You can fill in the blank. Be creative!