Dispatch From My Vampire Quarantine

what it means to be a sick, pale white girl

It’s a strange feeling, knowing your brain might be slow-roasting inside your skull.

Last Thursday night, after celebrating the holiday¹ with

Josh Slocum

, doing some well-earned retail therapy, I went to bed feeling perfectly normal.

A few hours later, I began waking up mid-vomit — which, while disgusting, is also a feature, not a bug. My body’s handy “hey, don’t asphyxiate in your sleep” alarm has saved me more than once. I’d cough, vaguely register that I was sick, then pass back out… only to repeat the whole thing a few minutes or hours later.

When I finally staggered out of bed and checked my temperature, it was over 101. That might not sound dramatic to the average person. But I’m not the average person. I run cold — like, low-96s cold — so one hundred one point anything is a five-alarm fire.

And it kept climbing.

By the time it hit 103, I was debating whether to call Josh, drive myself to the ER, or just ride it out. I don’t remember consciously choosing “ride it out”; I suspect unconsciousness made that decision for me. After about six hours of fevered near-delirium, it started dropping. Within ten hours, it was gone.

I figured it was food poisoning from having eaten out with Josh (who was fine, but we ordered very different things) or else a normal bug — I’d been around a bunch of germ-goblin toddlers at a graduation party the week before. Kids are adorable petri dishes, after all.

Then I found the tick.

It wasn’t quite the shower scene from Carrie, but there was definitely screaming.

I called my doctor, who told me to come in for bloodwork. Apparently, there’s “an aggressive strain” of anaplasmosis making the rounds in Vermont ticks right now.

What I had experienced — sudden fever, aches, vomiting — was textbook for round one. And round two? Much worse. We’re talking organ-failure-level disaster if you don’t treat it fast.

At the appointment, I felt fine — smug, even, for being the responsible adult who came in. But as she took my vitals, my temperature was already creeping up again: 99.7. She didn’t hesitate. “You have it,” she said. “Every single patient I’ve tested for it lately? Positive.” Waiting for the results posed more risk than jumping straight into treatment.

So I did something I almost never do: I took the pills before the bloodwork confirmed it. I expect to get confirmation tomorrow afternoon.

Treatment, in this case, means high-dose Doxycycline — and strict vampire rules. No sun. Like, none. According to my doctor, if I ignore her, my skin will go full horror-movie — “worse than poison ivy,” she warned.

Now, doctors are not always the best at distinguishing between legalese (“please don’t sue me”) and actual danger (“please don’t melt your face off”), so I was still mildly skeptical.

Then I went to the pharmacy.

Where I was required to sit through a stern consult with the pharmacist before they’d even hand me the pills. He took one look at me — pale, Irish-looking, and obviously the kind of person who thinks SPF 50 is a starting point — and told me flat out: “You’re almost certainly a reactor. Stay out of the sun, white girl.”

Apparently, some people don’t react to Doxy at all. But pale white girls? Always. And badly.

Which checks out. I don’t tan. I go from Casper the Friendly Ghost to Emergency Tomato. Then I peel. Then I go right back to Casper.

There is no bronze stage.

There is no golden goddess moment.

There is only regret.

So yeah. I’m taking it seriously. Today kicks off five full days of Vampire Quarantine.

No sun exposure, no walks, no errands — just me, my laptop, and whatever I need but don’t have arriving via a combination of Instacart and the teenage neighbor who serves as my househusband-for-pay.

But honestly? It’s not that bad. Between the holiday and getting knocked on my ass by mystery fever, I’m already behind on work-work, so now I’ll catch up. And I’ll get some drawing done, too.

(For anyone who missed the news, I’m going to launch an art side hustle in September, which you can follow on this Instagram account, which is also where coupon codes and such will be posted.)

But much more importantly: I’m telling you this so you don’t end up in the same situation.

If I hadn’t found that tick, I never would’ve connected the dots.

I would’ve assumed it was food poisoning, or possibly a kid-virus from the graduation party, and gone on with life — until round two hit.

And if I hadn’t been treated in time, that second round could’ve involved kidney damage. Or worse.

So here’s the PSA: if you suddenly spike a high fever, especially with body aches, take it seriously.

Even if you don’t find a tick.

Even if it passes quickly. That might be round one.

And what comes next might not be so forgiving.

If this saves even one person from organ failure, then I’ll consider my five-day bat cave sentence well spent.

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My latest drawing was a gift for a post-surgery friend, but the Halloween offerings will definitely include an owl!

1. It’s endlessly amusing to me that we celebrate the end of slavery by having everyone refrain from voluntarily working for wages.