I was embarrassed.
I started canceling plans, wearing long sleeves in the summer just to hide my arms.
At night, I couldn’t sleep. I’d toss, scratch, check the sheets, over and over again.
Every time I closed my eyes, I imagined them crawling on me.
I tried everything, chemical sprays, laundry, traps, bombs.
Nothing worked. The bites kept coming.
And with kids in the house, I didn’t want to fill our home with harsh chemicals.
Finally, I called an exterminator.
“$1,800 and that’s just for one room,” he said.
I could barely afford groceries. There was no way I was paying that.
I even thought about selling the house.
But this was my home, the place I’d raised my kids.
I wasn’t about to let a bunch of bugs drive us out.