Carnett: Another reason not to pick up hitchhikers

While on the East Coast this summer my wife, Hedy, and I picked up a hitchhiker.

Not a smart move.

When I first received my driver’s license in 1961, at age 16, I remember my dad exhorting me to never give a hitchhiker a lift.

“You don’t know who you’re picking up,” he warned.

That was coming from a man who, as a soldier, routinely hitchhiked from the now-defunct Santa Ana Army Air Base during World War II to his sweetheart’s abode on Balboa Island. (She later became my mom.)

“He didn’t have a car when we first met,” my 91-year-old mother recalls, “so he hitchhiked. He was a soldier, and civilians loved soldiers. He never had difficulty getting a ride.”

Lots of hitchhikers could be seen on the public byways of Newport Beach and Costa Mesa during my teen years in the late 1950s and early ‘60s. My buddies and I occasionally “thumbed” our way to the beach. No big deal.

Well, the hitchhiker I picked up in North Carolina this summer was a stranger to me –- though not entirely so. Still, I should have been better prepared.

I picked up a … tick.

Where my grandkids live, you can be attacked by all sorts of bloodsucking creatures, including the American dog tick, the blacklegged tick, the brown dog tick, the lone star tick and the Gulf Coast tick.

Some ticks transmit the dreaded Lyme disease — a very nasty malady, indeed.

But who gives a thought to ticks when you’re having fun?

Lyme disease can be successfully treated with antibiotics if treatment begins early — within several weeks of exposure. Late spring and summer are the worst seasons for ticks. Actually, they’re good for ticks and bad for humans.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention warn people to steer clear of ticks by avoiding wooded and bushy areas with high grass or leaf litter, and to walk in the center of trails. (Ever tramp through Virginia’s gnarled wilderness areas?) Also, ticks can be discouraged by using repellents containing 20% to 30% DEET.

I think I know how I was assaulted.

Our grandkids live on a lovely wooded lake. We spent lots of time hiking into the lush foliage. One night we had a campfire and played tag in the underbrush. It was wonderful.

Hedy and I returned to California for a few days and then flew to Rapid City, S.D., to begin a tour of the Black Hills, Yellowstone National Park and the Grand Tetons.

Our first night, as I stepped out of the shower, Hedy noticed what looked like a blood blister on my chest.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” I replied.

I’d not previously noticed it.

She tried to brush it off, to no avail. She rubbed harder. It persisted.

I then looked more closely and discovered that the blister had legs –- and they were wiggling!

“I think it must be a tick,” I said.

Its head was burrowed into my chest, and the thorax was fully engorged with (my!) blood.

Fortunately, Hedy — who’s a mother and grandmother and pays attention to things medical — knew what to do. She went to the small mystery bag she carries on our travels and located some tweezers. She pried the critter out of my chest, careful not to leave insect parts in the wound.

We called our doctor the next morning and made an appointment for 10 days hence. We kept an eye out for fever and a rash. There were no further complications.

When I saw my doctor at home, it had probably been two weeks since the tick had climbed aboard. It had gone undetected for several days. My doctor checked the wound thoroughly and put me on an antibiotic for two weeks.

Things cleared up nicely and, so far, no difficulties.

California doesn’t seem to have the tick problem that the Eastern Seaboard has, but we need to be vigilant when in wilderness areas nonetheless.

A tiny tick can ruin a day just as surely as an angry grizzly can.

JIM CARNETT, who lives in Costa Mesa, worked for Orange Coast College for 37 years.