Piojos.
There are lice in the house. Again.
And I’m at my wits end with the nits.
(But exercised considerable restraint in my note to the preschool parents’ WhatsApp group this afternoon. I only used ALL CAPS twice.)
***
The plague started a few weeks ago while Joe was on a TDY to another country. (These things always happen when he’s TDY.)
That week had been hard from the get-go. I’m not one for big celebrations, but it had been a bummer that he had to leave on my birthday. Then I came down with what I assumed was a nasty cold but later turned out to be a sinus infection that needed antibiotics. The headaches and general crappiness weren’t helping the fact that my workload was heavier than it had been in a while.
So when my phone buzzed with a text from the school that Thursday morning, I was feeling the suck.
The picture came through first. I didn’t even need the director’s note that followed. I had already grabbed the car keys by the time I read “lice” on the screen.
The next 8 hours will be funny someday. Someday.
I drove Nicolas home and ordered lunch since I hadn’t planned on a preschooler-friendly lunch and the groceries hadn’t yet arrived. While he and our nanny ate, I called the Health Unit to find out the treatment protocol and what was available (and safe) locally. I biked over to the neighborhood chemist only to be told they had permethrin cream for bodies but not for hair. I biked back home. I grabbed the car keys again and drove through afternoon traffic to the embassy to take the Health Unit up on the offer of treatment from their stash. I had a conversation with the doctor (via the nurse) about whether or not the non-insecticide treatment they had would indeed be effective. I came home and spent an hour in the shower with an incredibly patient kiddo who tolerated the nit combing for about 45 minutes before declaring he was “too cold” and “too sad” to keep going. I stripped all the beds and did 4 loads of laundry for good measure. And I sent the message of shame to the preschool parents’ WhatsApp group (along with a link to Mayo Clinic’s page on lice).
By 6:30, I was spent physically, mentally, and emotionally. I shared my tale of woe with my Facebook friends while Nico spent some quiet time before bed.
Within a few minutes, my phone started pinging. “You can get American lice stuff at the commissary!” “That sucks, anything you need?” “I have some Nix in my stash from the last time it happened at our house. Can I send it over with our driver?”
Living overseas can be incredibly hard and heartbreakingly lonely at times. It can feel like we’re alone as we navigate the not-life-threatening-but-still-hard stuff. But as soon as I’m at the “ugh, I just need a damn Target store and this would be so much easier!” point, I’m reminded that all it takes is asking for a little help.
The Nix quietly arrived at my doorstep twenty-five minutes later while I tucked Nicolas into bed.
And a little less than an hour after that, Joe walked through the door too.
Now it might be helpful to know that, in another life before this Foreign Service one, Joe was a card-carrying pest control specialist. He knows a thing or two about bugs and how to get rid of them. So it wasn’t just that my co-parent was home. The “exterminator” had arrived.
Operation Delouse was in full effect by Friday morning. Permethrin-based shampoo was ordered. Nit combing and daily double-checks were done by our resident insect expert. And by Sunday, we officially declared the infestation eradicated. (But still kept up our daily checks for the next week.)
***
I knew it wasn’t a good sign this morning when Joe grabbed his flashlight after running his hand through Nicolas’s hair.
As my mind recalled a playdate with an itchy-headed classmate earlier this week, I put it together: it hadn’t been a ‘my head is sweaty and I have long hair’ scratch.
No. The “vicious cycle” that the nurse had warned about had come full circle to our house. Somebody either hadn’t checked their kid or had but hadn’t known what they were looking for and/or how to fully eradicate the pests from their home.
Out came the phone. It took a couple of drafts before I could strike an appropriate balance between “oh for the love of God, people” and “here’s some helpful information about treatment effectiveness and what’s available locally.” I think the message that I finally hit send on was OK. I hope it was enough.
The next message went to the school’s director to a) let her know to be on the lookout b) share what I had just communicated to other parents.
So here we are again. Scalps stinky from insecticide but at least confident that we’ve done our part. Fingers crossed other parents have done or will do the same.
Photo by Raghavendra V. Konkathi on Unsplash
