Today I got the note that pest control won’t be spraying anymore because I’m clear. This is awesome and terrifying, as my Spray Day safety blanket is gone now. But at least they sprayed today, so everything will have poison on it for several weeks yet…
It’s been more than 30 days since the thermal treatment, and the one thing I saw on the 26th that I wasn’t sure about turned out not to be a bite, so this makes more than 30 days without a bite, too, and that puts me right in the middle of the “when you can be sure” zone of 14-60 days.
Pest control will continue to spray for a few months, because they don’t want to take chances. The lady down the hall who was kicked out has moved out, and I’m pretty sure they’ll thermal-treat her place again now that she’s out of it. The girl diagonally across from me hasn’t had anything since the thermal treatment. My friend down the hall still has a handful of live ones, and she’s trying to get thermal-treated again to finish them off–it’s been 6 solid months of hell for her.
On May 1, I finally slept in my new bed, and I love it. I did my spring cleaning. I switched out my winter and spring/summer clothes, putting all my winter stuff through the dryer again, as a precaution, and putting it all in giant ziploc bags inside their plastic tubs, because I ain’t playin’.
The change of season probably has something to do with it (symbolically and otherwise), but all of me feels like this is over, and I can breathe easy now. WHICH HAD BETTER NOT BE FUCKING JINXING IT BECAUSE SO HELP ME FUCK IF I GET A BITE AFTER THIS…
My mindset hasn’t been debugged, yet. I still have some anxiety about public spaces: I worry that every bus seat, every restaurant chair, every doctor’s waiting room chair, every plane seat I occupy has a bug hiding in it that will hitch a ride home with me and start this mess all over again. I wonder how long that will take to go away… And I wonder how long it will take me to stop checking every inch of my body for bites after I shower.
I’ll still take precautions when it comes to what goes in and out of my place: I’ll spray my shoes with rubbing alcohol when I get home; instead of using my chair as a repository for clothes I’ve worn once or twice but that aren’t really dirty enough for the laundry, I’ll put them in a giant ziploc hanging on my closet door, as I’ve done these past 4 months; I’ll wash my bedding more frequently than I used to; I’ll occasionally hose down my furniture with rubbing alcohol.
But it feels good to finally relax into the words “It’s OVER,” and set my sights on getting on with my life.