Ticks suck: Do as I say and don't get bit
Or do as I did and get sick as a dog
Please forgive the do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do nature of what follows. In a tick-heavy season, I got a little careless with tick avoidance this summer and let myself lose the better part of two weeks to tick fever.
At least, that’s what my doctor thinks. Despite negative tests, during a follow-up appointment, Doc said it acted more like a tick fever than a virus.
Ticks use spit and suck, and in the process, share bacteria and other nasties in the skin layers of their temporary hosts.
Through my 15 years of writing columns and news stories about tick-related diseases and avoidance annually, if not several times in some seasons, two big things have changed. The first thing most people asked is if I got Alpha-Gal, a tick-related allergy to red meat that was unheard of 10 years ago. The next assumption was Lyme Disease, also unheard-of in Oklahoma 10 years ago.
Those two have garnered plenty of headlines.
I can say with certainty I had neither of those.
I do not recommend getting whatever it was that I had.
I was miserable. Still, a little over a week beyond the “end” of it, I’d say I’m still not 100 percent. I get physically worn down too quickly, a condition I, rightly or wrongly, always seek to conquer by pushing myself to do more. Eventually, I’ll complete a full day of good, sweaty physical work and think, “Ah, all better.”
I have no idea what type of tick illnesses I had, which is apparently common. Doc said false negative tests are standard with early testing, and I hit the urgent care clinic and got onto seven days of Doxycycline without delay.
It was either Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, which the Centers for Disease Control attributes to a bacterium known as Rickettsia rickettsii. The cool kids call it RMSF and know that Brown Dog Ticks, American Dog Ticks, and Lone Star Ticks carry it. The treatment is an antibiotic called Doxycycline.
Or it may have been a strain of Ehrlichiosis, the general name for diseases caused by the bacteria Ehrlichia chaffeensis, E. ewingii, or E. muris eauclairensis. The CDC reports that Lone Star and Blacklegged ticks are the culprits here, and, again, the treatment is Doxycycline.
Those are the old-school, everyday sort of tick-borne illnesses that have been recognized for years, although when I first started writing about tick-borne diseases in Oklahoma in 2008, I recall the Lone Star tick being held harmless for RMSF. Scientists eventually learned more as tick-borne illnesses expanded and more research and tick testing evolved.
So, what happened?
I went out on a hot, humid day to clear weeds and work in the woods. I always wore my Permethrin-treated boots, socks, pants, and shirt. They were all a few washes into their cycle and possibly due for a re-application, but I went with the knowledge that I always, always apply a high-concentration DEET spray as a backup.
Except my DEET wasn’t in the truck. I’d put in a pack on my last outing and left that pack at home. I sweated a lot; my shirt came untucked several times, and I walked through tall, wet grass and mud puddles. Sweat and external moisture soaked me through on several occasions.
I pulled about 16 ticks off my carcass that day and flicked off several more that were not attached. I camped out alone that night. I’m a careful tick checker-clearer and keep tweezers handy. But a couple of tiny seed ticks managed to stick around overnight. I pulled them off the following day. I identified the collection as a mix of Lone Star and American Dog ticks.
However, those occurrences didn’t stop me from continuing my work in the morning and harvesting a fresh batch of hitchhikers to take home—because I’m stubborn that way.
Later that week, I also apparently picked up a Brown Dog tick that likely hitched a ride on my Lab, Whiskey, and fled the boy’s tick protection for my non-protected couch-potato waistline. I woke up with the semi-swollen bugger attached under the belt line of my sweatpants.
I filed those days in my head and knew to watch for symptoms for a few weeks.
Two weekends later, I went fishing on a Sunday, hurt my back, and just generally felt crappy. I kept thinking, “What’s up with me today? Man, I’m a wimp!” That Monday, I had a killer headache and fatigue. Monday night, 101.5 on the thermometer. Tylenol didn’t touch it. Tuesday was the same. I was at urgent care on Wednesday morning and picked up antibiotics before lunch. With Tylenol, the temp just kept riding about 99.5 to 100.5. I’d wake up soaked in sweat, sit around chilled and covered in blankets; every muscle in my body ached; I had some severe joint pain and swelling, zero appetite, an upset stomach, and killer headaches.
When I woke with that fever, I immediately thought about the ticks—with a bit of consideration that it could be COVID, as several friends have had that lately. I was negative for COVID throughout.
Some tick-borne bacteria tests take several days to get results, but doctors usually prescribe Doxy regardless. If it’s a virus, taking it won’t matter; if it’s a tick issue, Doxy is the treatment, so it’s best to get started as soon as possible.
If I had just one or two ticks attached for a good while, I might have saved those in a Ziplock sandwich-size bag and sent them in for testing after I became ill, but the volume of ticks this time around was just crazy,
and I didn’t save them.
So, what’s the drill?
Someday, I’ll get into the Fairbanks Daily News-Miner archives and dig up those 1990s columns I wrote after one of our local doctors returned from Desert Storm and gave me the recipe the Army used to keep sand fleas off the troops.
It was a ratio of sheep dip to use in an upright washing machine. They washed uniforms in diluted Permethrin and hung them to dry. As a result, they would repel sand fleas—and mosquitoes and gnats; we learned for Alaska—for several weeks or washings.
But the Doc got a wrist-slapping letter from the Department of Defense, and we both got one from the U.S. Food and Drug Administration. They warned about advising people to use products for off-label applications. Every feed store in Alaska also got those letters.
Oops.
Sometime later, I went to buy more sheep dip but found only red tape and a sign where the Permethrin-based products used to be. Permethrin was now kept behind the counter and sold only to people with livestock, the sign directed. The shop hand told me they had previously sold out, too, inconveniencing some livestock owners. Fairbanks only had two feed stores, so it was no laughing matter.
I have to confess it felt good to know so many people read my column, though.
The point of that story is that I’ve been treating my clothing with Permethrin for a long time, and I swear by it. It really does work, and I use it on all my hunting, fishing, and work clothes. I now buy it in the FDA-approved manner as Sawyer Permethrin Insect Repellent for Clothing, Gear, and Tents.
Some folks buy pre-treated tick-resistant clothing and swear by it. I have not tested those outfits, but I don’t have any reason to doubt they work, either.
When I’m in the brush, I usually wear a skin-tight treated undershirt and tuck that into my pants. I wear a long-sleeved shirt to protect my arms but leave it untucked for ventilation. I also treat my boots, wear lightweight, calf-high socks, also treated, and I treat all my working, hunting, and fishing pants.
When I arrive at the field, I still drop my pants to my knees, lift my shirt for a quick application of DEET, and do the same around my neck. Most ticks, I’ve found, tend to attach around the mid-drift, belt, backs of the legs, knees, and around the neck and back where fabric binds, or they feel hidden.
Permethrin does the trick, but having that added DEET protection doesn't hurt.
Generally, even if I’m sitting in tall grass for hours turkey hunting or on a photo safari, I’ll come home tick-free, even when friends who were with me say they found ticks attached.
When a tick is attached, find it as soon as possible. The longer it is connected, the more likely it is to transmit a disease. I’ve found that the best tools for removal are tweezers with an extremely sharp point and a magnifying glass if you have one. Grab the tick at the mouth parts and pull it directly out.
Think of that tick like a little bitty syringe. Grab it by the body or irritate it using salve, heat, or your pocket knife or fingernails, and you run a greater risk of leaving that little sucker’s spit, or tiny bits of its mouth parts, under your skin. You don’t want that.
The bottom line is to be diligent; that’s all. If you are, the odds you’ll have a tick attached grow lower and lower, and 100 percent of the tick-borne illnesses are preventable if you don’t get bit.
I use spray REPEL on my clothes before venturing out. Works great.