Nadie me quiere, todos me odian, me mejor me como un gusanito -(Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, it would be better if I just ate the worm). An infectiously catchy song popular in mexico right now.

Back when I had long hair and far less debt, I lived in the land of majestic mountains, virtual valleys and sumptuous seashores (ok, debris-strewn and trash-infested are much more apt, but I am painting a happy picture here). For lack of a better term, let’s call it California. In that city of cities san Francisco I met, among hundreds of other people a nice lady who had lived in central and south America during her formative years. Among other tails of adventure and disease, she once described to me an infestation of her own. Squeamish readers, stop here. Her clan was doing some kind of swiss family robinson gig (ok, clearly I wasn’t paying attention as she told me the first part of her story), or so I gathered, when she and her sister one day found themselves the hosts to most unpleasant foreign guests. I often like foreigners, foreign objects (even though I still remember the warning labels from when I was little that advised me to keep foreign objects out of my mouth), foreign films, foreign languages and often, though let’s be honest: not always, I like foreign food. So the girl had guests, no big deal. I was still only half paying attention to the story, kind of like you right now, probably, when she mentioned the word that filled me with trepidation and that other form of uneasiness, nausea.

Yes, friends, she and her sister had foreigners among them all right. They even had foreigners inside them, well, in their stomachs to be more precise. Parasites. Gusanitos (a particularly frightening word in Spanish). Those which cannot live by themselves but require the sustenance of a host to survive. Children? Yes. well, yes, but in this case, no. Worms. Remember the films you watched as a child of those unfortunate people who somehow contracted these nasty little critters? I do. Actually, I can visualize them like they are right in front of me at this moment. They strike palpable fear into my soul because, in the end, I am soft (scary movies really scare me. for days, ok, weeks, at a time).

(At this point, oh dearest of readers, you have every right to ask where this is all heading. Well, as the police once unwaveringly assured me, I have the right to remain tight-lipped. So it goes.)

As you might expect I was ready to walk away from this person and label her and her bug-harboring sibling as dirty, vile, unclean (the disinfected baby and the prophylactic pup / were playing in the garden when the bunny gambled up. / they looked upon the creature with a loathing undisguised / he wasn’t disinfected and he wasn’t sterilized – ok, some of the words are off, but I vaguely remember the poem as starting this way. Big a, do you remember who wrote it?). something akin to morbid curiosity kept my interest in her strange story and so I pressed her for more information.

Turns out she was able to rid herself of these evil little hangers-on with some sort of medicine that evicts them from their residence in the tum. I was thoroughly grossed out by her description of how she actually KNEW they had left the body, so I will leave this part to your imagination.

Worms. Gross. Even the book How to Eat Fried Worms bothered me a bit as a child.

So why would I relate this little episode from my days in cali? Well, I just learned another new thing today. Every person, more or less, in mexico takes pills every six months to keep their body free of the bad version of these worm creatures. Of course, you are thinking to yourself, all of us have little parasites inside of us that help with digestion, etc. I do not like thinking about this fact, so leave me to my ignorance. Anyway, these worms get inside the body down here from the water, food, even the air that one breathes. Exactly. Gross.

And where would I pick up this kind of information you might ask? That’s right, from a doctor. All week I have been feeling pretty bad: extremely weak and headaches at times. My first thought, lest we not forget I am a hypochondriac at heart, is that I had mononucleosis and that I would have to leave the country and sleep for 3 months. Probably not what happens with mono, but again, I am hypochondriac so I also exaggerate everything related to bad health.

So anywho, I spent the whole week taking vitamins and loading up on ibuprophin. I also went to bed almost every night around 9pm. No joke. I was sleeping 10-11 hours a night. And, I was waking up tired and ready to sleep more. My kidneys’ started to hurt yesterday (again, I might be exaggerating this part) so I firmed myself up for a trip to the doctor. There is a health plan through the university. Just imagine health care programs in mexico for a second. Lines, hours, etc. Ok. So I went to the doctor’s office which is actually in the same building in which I live. My friend Francisco went there the other day and vouched for it. 2 dollars for a visit. Not bad.

Another interesting side note here. The pharmacy is attached to the doctor’s office (there is a room that the doctor sits in. no nurse, no receptionist, no cashier. Just him doing it all) and they actually will try to sell you things you don’t need. But my prescription says I need a three day supply, why did you just give me a ten day supply?

Ok, so I hate doctors. Doctor’s that do not speak the same language I do? Ya, I really do not like them either. Thus, I made Francisco come with me as my translator.

I live in a small town so as we are waiting for the doctor to see me, the jorges’ see us waiting and come in to harass me about how I need to drink more mescal and eat more habenero pico. They are quite disappointed that I am abandoning my cheap ways and actually paying for something I could obtain for free (health care) and are generally unhelpful in regards to making me feel more confident.

The actual visit was quick and painless (all that build up, for what? You ask.). I actually understood most of what he said to me so paco was only rarely used for translating. He asked me some questions about how I felt. Asked me about my diet in general, then weighed me. I explained the sore body, weak feeling and he began writing a prescription. Wow. That was fast I thought.

Then he asked me about the u.s.a. where am I from, have I ever felt this way at home, etc. then he asked me a question which I needed help translating. He asked me when was the last time I had taken my pills for worms, bugs, etc. paco translated by making weird movements with this his hands around his stomach followed by the word I fear. Gusanito. Check back to the song I translated at the beginning to understand why I would know this word. I choked back my immediate desire to laugh, why would I need to take pills defending against worms? Oh my god.

At this point these more pertinent questions caused the interlocutor to tear up the first prescription and begin another.

Worms are in the air, the food and the water. Do I ever eat at any of the street vendors (flashbacks to the night I ate head)? he asked. Paco was quick to answer in the affirmative. Do they not have street vendors in the u.s.a who sell all kinds of food? (if you have not read Confederacy of Dunces, stop reading this and go rent it from the library). Well, yes, but I do not frequent them, I replied. The knowing smile that crept across his face will be one I shall not soon forget.

If you are like me and not wanting to believe this, let it sink in really well. The chances are extremely high that I have worms. If I don’t, then I am really in trouble, because maybe I do have mono.

Ok. I have worms.

On the plus side, the visit to the doctor and the pharmacy took about 15 minutes total and cost me 13 dollars with two prescriptions and some multi-vitamins (which I already have pretty much, but whatever, I am sucker).

On the negative side I have worms. The negatives are really outweighing the positives here. I am going to take a nap.