It was meant to be an idyllic vacation in sunny southwest Florida. We – husband and I, left pets and the Pennsylvania winter behind for a week of fishing the mangrove flats. Days and nights were all blissfully the same. Days consisted of breakfast (coffee, grits) and fishing all day (the fish gods were with us, plentiful redfish, snook and perch). Evenings started with cocktail hour (pickled okra and tonic drinks), and finished off with a delectable filet of that day’s catch. The weather was sunny, humid and breezy, the smells of Florida such a welcome change to concrete rooms and exhaust fumes. The stresses of vet school and living in the busy city quickly faded to a dim memory.
One morning the husband seemed pretty blue. Didn’t even finish his grits. It was unnerving. Before I could ask- whatsa matta with ya? He leaned across the table and softly whispered words no one could imagine:
“Lizzie, I think I have worms”
A miserable semester of parasitology came barging back from my altered reality. What kind of worms? Nematodes? Flukes? We had been eating fish, maybe we didn’t cook it enough. I asked all the questions an enthusiastic over-achieving doctor should ask: does it itch? Burn? What do they look like? Are they wiggling or egg like? Flat or round? I continued to describe every type of internal parasite I could remember. I even got to say “maybe you have macrocantharincus hirudinacious,” which I knew was impossible because it is a pig worm, but I just love to say the word and I wanted to sound smart and scary.
The husband was not impressed and wondered if he should go to the doctor.
“You mean not go fishing today??” I squealed and wailed.
That was not ok with me. Leave it to the husband to ruin a perfectly good vacation by getting worms. Now it was time to think rationally and save the day.
“It’s a weekend and there is no way we are going to get this fixed today. You have no symptoms, so let’s go fishing and worry about this next week”. Reluctantly he acquiesced.
In a few hours our worries were forgotten in the summer sun and sparkling blue water. The okra and tonic drinks were delicious. Maybe it was a bad dream.
Until the next morning.
As a scientist, I have insatiable curiosity….
I wonder if I have worms too? Won’t hurt to check…….
The litany of cuss words from the bathroom could be heard next door.
#**¥*#. “I have the worms too!” ##%**€#
The husband tried to calm me, but this was serious. And all his fault. He got them first. So we did what any parasite infested person on vacation would do: went fishing.
Cocktail hour arrived too soon. I was afraid to go to the bathroom. So far no serious symptoms. Maybe the tonic drinks would kill the interlopers…
The husband took a bite of his umpteenth pickled okra. The broad smile on his face and chortle shocked me. “What do you have to be so happy about?”
He showed me the guts of his okra: it had worms too!!!