Bite me
Kathmandu ,Nepal
I AM PANICKING because I have a mosquito bite on the side of my face. I am on vacation in Nepal, heading to India the next day. I chose not to take malaria tablets because the risk is relatively low in the places I am going. It’s not the time of year when mosquitoes proliferate so I brought insect repellent wipes to rub on my exposed skin instead. Every bed in every hotel is equipped with a white mosquito net hanging from the ceiling.
I hate bed nets. I feel like I’m sleeping in a shroud and most of them are old, dusty, rarely washed. A bed net, when used properly either tucked under the mattress or heavily weighted, sides overlapping top-to-bottom, touching the floor, requires contortions of heroic proportions to get in and out of bed.
I have been very lax about using the mosquito repellent wipes. I swish them around my exposed skin and my feet if I’m wearing sandals, blot my ears and face, kind of. I hate the smell and I know DEET is toxic. I immediately wash my hands thoroughly so I don’t absentmindedly touch my eyes, lick my lips or pick up a fork with DEET-covered hands.
Now I have a mosquito bite where I didn’t wipe my face with the DEET towelettes. I have a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach as I quickly search the internet for information on malaria in Nepal, furious with myself that I had a very effective precaution in the form of repellent in my bag but was so cavalier about using it. I completely overlooked the sides of my face, daubing only the middle, touching the tip of my nose.
The info from the CDC and the WHO says malaria mosquitoes in Nepal are not typically found above 6000 feet elevation. I frantically search for the elevation of Kathmandu. The capital city is located at 4500 feet above sea level. I am 1500 feet inside the malaria zone. Does 1500 feet really make a difference? Can a mosquito measure 1500 feet? I am convinced I will go home with malaria because of my own stupidity.
On my flight from Kat to New Delhi a day later, I meet a couple of missionaries who reassure me. It’s unlikely I will contract malaria from that bite on my face, don’t worry.
Then they tell me about dengue fever, endemic in Nepal, also transmitted by mosquitoes. No vaccine, no prophylaxis, no treatment, no medication, no cure. Nothing! Incredibly painful, called “break-bone fever” because of severe bone and joint pain, they say. They both had it, languishing in a hospital, writhing in unbelievable pain for days. “It’s okay,” they say, smiling. “We both survived.”
Now I have something new to worry about.
