These Bugs Are HereTo Stay
October 16th 2007 05:09
The Bugs Are Here To Stay
By The Old Man...
Normally I would not have gone to visit Aunty Clarinda, but her letter to me was so profound and compelling that I just had to go. Her place is way out the back of ‘ Wup Wup” and beyond the west black stump. No one in their right mind would want to live out the remainder of her days out on such an isolated property. But that was Aunty Clarinda after Uncle Jack had died twenty years ago now. I mean that they were both good sorts and easy to get along with moist of the time and they certainly put on a great spread when any one of the family visited them. And their property was huge in modern times. It was at least twenty five thousand hectares across the back of the great divide from Orange in central N.S.W. with plenty of water flowing through it most of the year. But they had some strange ideas about growing bugs. And Uncle Jack was a Chemist of sorts and he always was experimenting all of the time. Some of his inventions even worked so he was a good sort after all. But I could not get over Aunty Clarinda’s mysterious letter at all for it read in part like this: “hello my dear child; have you been itching lately, or for a long time now since your fifteenth birthday?” come and see me soon, I can help. Aunty C.
Well what could I say to such an invitation, because in fact I had been itching again lately and definitely since my fifteen birthday. So I really wondered what was up. So I wrote to her and said I was coming out on the next train and coach a month from now.
Her place is a really lovely place and she met me at the coach stop ten miles from her front fence, just over the side of the divide, and we were silent all of the way back to her front porch. As I looked at her I could see that she had not aged a bit since I last saw her twenty years ago, and I wondered about that too. Her cooking was great even if it was done on an old cast iron stove, and that it took longer to prepare and cook as well, as both her and Uncle Jack had done away with most of the modern conveniences along time ago (or so I had thought). Some secrets are worth keeping secret, I was to find out soon enough.
The time now was five pm in the after noon as it had taken the coach another two hours for the detour around, in and through and between the divide to get onto the main road leading to Aunties Clarinda’s place. As the Sun was setting old Billy Jack her Aboriginal Jackeroo came out smiling his warm smile as ever he had done in the fifty years he had worked for Uncle Jack and Aunty Clarinda. He was a welcome sight for sore eyes as well. My memory flashed back to the times when I was only nine and my parents took us to visit with them back in sixty three for Christmas holidays. Well we had a time there I can well remember it now.
Over the next four days we walked and talked and fed our selves and went for our usual buggy rides all over the property with Billy Jack along side of us driving the wagon come buggy, for they seldom used her car or the work trucks Uncle Jack had originally needed to set his place up just right for them back in the twenties. And even after the great war Uncle Jack seldom used modern equipment. They both disliked the television and all of the newspapers.
But they did like the radio from time to time and visiting every one around them, and having great big dances on their property twice a year. But I am misleading myself. Aunty Clarinda on the fourth day took me out behind the ranch toward black hole mountain gully, which was a hidden gully about five miles behind the ranch house and living quarters for the hands (who were very loyal and all Aboriginal). On the way around there, she opened up and asked me about my itchiness and when did it first start? I though she was asking about my recent problems with my rash and breathing problems which the doctor never seemed to believe me; though how she could have known about that, I may never know the answer to.
So I told her all about my recent woes – for I spoke to her about it in this way:
Oh Aunty - It all began when I moved into a new place; It wasn’t the best of places as I was sleeping on a mattress on the floor of my friends house, rather than take just any old place from those called crooked real estate agents, that are loose all over Melbourne these days; soon though I got desperate to take pot luck; so I took what I was able to find. I was a bit dubious about taking the unit because it had quite an odour about it, and the agent who was showing me around insisted that it would disappear after a few days of open windows. What I liked about this place was that it had large, high ceilings, and two large bedrooms which was more than I needed and the place was reasonably priced - It also had ducted heating, which is what I really needed during the winter months; how ever it really wasn’t in that great a shape, but it was better than nothing, and it was well located to the shopping in the area I wanted to live in.
I moved in during the summer, and thought myself quite lucky, because it seemed to be really cool in my unit, but as the days went by the smell did not disappear, and don’t ever tell me that a smell means every thing is alright, cause it aint; even after spraying with air fresheners, and burning oils did not get rid of the smell. I basically had my windows open day and night through out the summer; and a bigger trouble was looming although I could not see it at the time; the smell was starting to go through my clothes, and through my bed clothes as well and I could really notice the smell on myself when I went out.
I was beginning to smell badly, even though I showered. The more I scratched my head over it, the more I found that I could do nothing about it; I started to feel quite uncomfortable every time I went out. How ever a small twist began to happen and I noticed that the cooler it got the smell seemed to disappear more and more, but never completely. I was in a real mess with what to do about it and I really was not wanting to move again! You see, I was in the middle of a lease, so I knew I couldn’t. Melbourne as some will know is a fascinating place, especially with its many weather patern’s . Here in October of 1995, the eather was a bit different and more cooler than usual. Anyway I perked myself up with, “Well at least the weather was cooling down,” so I decided to run the heating. So after, eating breakfast one day I switched the heating on and went for a walk for an hour or so, looking forward to the warmth of the unit when I got back.
But on returning from my walk, I opened my door, and a thick was of dust and what appeared to be a fine thick mist of dust. I was stunned! Covering my nose and mouth I ducked down as low as I could, and rushed to turn off the heating, and opened all the windows, and put on a fan to blow the mist out, and then went for another walk of 5-10 minutes and came back again hoping most would have cleared except for the second bedroom where most of my things were stored. But no! It was not long enough; so I went for another walk and this time for an hour and a half; When I returned it was all still a bit misty, so I kept my front door open and then opened my back door hoping for a breeze to flow through to dissipate the dust somehow. I was so shocked to see all the dust that was there I would never use the ducted heating again. I had to do some thing; I was getting desperate so I dragged my vacuum cleaner out - “hooray I cried to myself - here comes Sadie the cleaning lady.”
I worked my self into a frenzy; vacuuming the curtains, my bedding and every nook and cranny. What I was really worried about was the clothes I’d left lying around, which had not been put away, for the past three days, as I had an abundance of clothing, and most of it was now so dust affected that I thought of throwing every thing out! The bedding as well.
But I decided to put every thing into plastic bags for the time being, until I could think about how I was going to handle this problem.
Yuk! Even handling my clothing left me feeling itchy, and my breathing became more and more difficult; I felt so stressed, I did what ever sensible woman would do in such situations - I burst into tears and immediately went for a shower. That relieved the chest pains and breathing problems for the moment, and it took away the itchiness, temporarily, and the clothes were like red flags to a bull and they went straight into the wash. After six hours of this stuff and nonsense I was exhausted and I still had a second bedroom to clean, but decided to tackle that another time. I was just too exhausted to care further. I was pooped.
In between all of this some where some how I managed to grab something to eat, without cooking and went to bed early. In bed was worse than being on a blind ate with a sand groper; I slept badly through the night tossing and turning and itching, and my breathing became laboured again and again - I had barely slept four hours and woken up cold, itching, and had trouble breathing and felt like something was crawling and spreading like a creeper vine all over me; but I was too tired to register the seriousness of this attack for on me for now.
Suddenly, I shot up bolt upright and was off and running for the bathroom, throwing up as I went, then grabbing a face washer, and soaking it in hot water wiping my self all over - cleaning myself up and trying to get rid of the itching. Have you ever had a bad night on the grog or with chicken pox? No, well good for you. As for me I was so tired and I still had to clean up the mess that had been made. I remade my bed, then jumped into it and tried to get more sleep! If there is a God, I cried to myself, then please, please give me a break! I slept for a while, only to wake up itching again, and again, and feeling like something was crawling all over me in tidal waves – always coming and going with no cessation in sight. To the bathroom again to wipe myself over with a face washer again and using a special fine comb to run through my hair, that you would use for nits rather than shower again.
As dawn broke over Melbourne my eye lids fought them selves to open against the Gue that was keeping them shut tight; Oh for a miracle I thought, while struggling to get up, not really knowing what time it was, and wishing like some one would come and rescue me from this dismal trap.
Morning it was though, and so I determined to myself that if God was not going to help me then he had better stay out of my sight for good or else. I even forgot to make myself breakfast of cereals and milk and some toast with marmalade. I was so determined to figure this out for myself that I spent the next six days washing the floors and doing the laundry from morning to night, time just slipped by so fast and I seldom thought of food – just sleep and then return to the routine of the dungeon. I was really beginning to waste away when a friend called me on the phone to see how I was doing.
So I told him “that from the third day till now ten days later, I began to wash the floors everyday with disinfectant, and washing my clothes in really hot water and disinfectant, showering twice a day sometimes; ironing everyday, hoping that would kill anything that didn’t die in the wash.
Spraying my mattress, and base with different kinds of insect killer, or anything I could get me hands on, not knowing what was giving me the itches, and bites – then I told him how close to total exhaustion I was really in: By now I had lapse into a ritual too stressed to think clearly and I even forgot his telephone till he showed up three hours later. Taking a much need break with him I realised they (THE BUGS) weren’t being killed in the normal wash because I would get itchy again after bringing them in from being hung out in the air. I told my friend that I had to go shopping and get more stronger chemicals, or all would be lost and I would end up a mental case after all. You know some thing, my mind really went into over drive to sort this mess out.
I was really beside myself, unable to sleep properly, or to even get on with any sort of normality and as much as my friend helped, to me he was in the way – as the old Sadie the cleaning ladie would win out after all. I think he realised that I was well in over my head and was in to self determination one more time, and I think he left quietly rather than make a fan fare out of every thing. This stuff was driving me nuts; I was like this for days, or weeks. Time and seasons had no more meaning for from then on in.
I wasn’t sure when it was that I eventually thought about visiting my doctor, by the time I got to see him I had reddish sores on my head and body, and I do mean all over my body, as well as the itching that occurred on and off. I had scratched myself stupid, and I had developed nasty sores which didn’t heal to well to boot.
By the time I visited my doctor, my lungs were wheezing, I itched and was very sleepless. I was in fact a wreck and very haggard. I told him about what had happened, and showed him most of the places of where I itched, and the nurse took samples from my sores on my body for laboratory testing; my doctor gave me antibiotics, and a puffer to use.
He said, “Obviously I was allergic to something”! Some thing, great Ceasar’s ghost some thing he says so mildly I could have strangled him; I had also complained of a lot of pain in my wrists and back, and he gave me a script for pain killers. I told him of waking up many times in the middle of the night with numb fingers. So he sent me to a specialist to have my hands tested.
As I walked to the chemist, I was so blood thirsty for his blood as he didn’t give me anything to relieve my itching it was driving me nuts. Wow, talk about the wicked witch in the movie The Wizard of Oz. I was in a very ugly mood, I can, tell you that for nothing. After the chemist I was deciding whether it was better to go and stay with my cousins place or go home. Oh God, I was scared of going home. Then I got mad with myself and forced myself to go home. Going home was a struggle but I made it. Once there, I found some flat brown, bugs crawling round in my kitchen, and some in my bedroom, then some red looking ones that looked like the brown ones except that they were red. I didn’t know what they were? I caught a few of them in each room and placed them in small jars. And in the morning, I took them to the Melbourne museum, to have them assessed, but that didn’t turn up anything new.
I was at my wits end, not knowing what was giving me this dreadful itching! I fell across my bed as I had had to do so often these days and cried my self into a fitful sleep, which lasted all night.
In the morning, all I knew of what I was doing was when I came to in the shower, suddenly realising that it was a very hot shower and instead of being scared of being burned, it actually gave me some temporary relief, but there’s only so many very hot showers in a day a person really needed, and I was surpassing that amount already. On returning to the doctors, four days later, he could not tell me anything new. I was so annoyed. Could he not see the despair I was in? did I not look like a witch and a hag? What was wrong with this man? All he could tell me was that the samples taken had not shown what had caused the sores.
I was a mess, mentally and physically, and when I spoke about the itching and the bites, I was sure my doctor was not taking me seriously looking at me as if I was from mars or something. He basically suggested the itching was all in my head! In my head! What was he saying that I was imagining it all up? What a dill he was.
I was livid at his conclusions; knowing full well it was very real. For some time I ran around like a chook with its head on. Over the next seven days, I went to a doctor’s clinic closer to home in an effort to get my problem resolved, and somebody more sympathetic to my needs.
I walked into the clinic, but I couldn’t get an appointment that day, so I went to another, I had the same problem there. I had developed sores and they itched and I scratched. After another weary and uneventful day, I had decided to go home and shower and have a rethink. I was way too stressed about it, and I was really very angry, with doctors, in general by this time and with the real estate agents who had sucked me in with regards with this dump. I said to my self “ how they could rent out accommodation that was in such a state!”
Each day I would walk home with a scowl on my face, and totally exhausted in my mind body and soul and walked with a pace I’m sure nobody would keep up with. One of my neighbours spotted me and asked me “why I had a scowl on my face?”I told her of my itching problem, she took a step back from me, and she looked at me seriously, and asked “had I had that problem long?” I said, “ever since I ran my ducted heating about a month ago maybe more now! She was silent a moment, then said, “I’ll tell you something but your place and you are not to repeat who the story came from”, I said okay! What else could I say and do at that moment? Standing there itching, but willing to listen to what this elderly lady had to say as she lived behind me and she would have full view of anything that might have happened in my unit, I was all ears.
As she told me, “prior to me - Asians had lived in my unit, and they would bring live chickens home and they lived in cages in their home and put them out in the backyard, and kill them one by one, then pluck them and cook them. But they were lazy with payments of their rent and the place was filthy and stank all of the time and we all had to complain to the agents about them; and so they were eventually kicked out a month before you moved in.
And during winter they would try to clean the place: But during winter they would also leave the back door open while killing the chickens and dumping the offal out in the yard instead of in the rubbish bins in bags. That she had seen them doing these things for her own eyes each time they killed a chicken. All this was done during winter, just a yard or so from the intake valve of the ducted heating, sucking up whatever was floating about in the air!” Now I was intrigued as well as itchy. I thanked her, for the information, and said, “I needed to go home and shower.” It got me wondering now whether they were healthy chickens or not? I went home to ponder all she has said, while I was showering.
Afterwards I rang another doctor’s clinic, and was only able to get an appointment in 5 days time, I was so upset, and very very angry. When my appointment came around I told the doctor what my neighbour had told me. I complained about my constant itching, and showed him my bites. He looked at me and smiled, and then seriously said, “It used to happen often in the old days; you might need to get your ducted heating cleaned and the place fumigated. (I was so relieved to think that he was finally beginning to believe me.)
If only it were that easy I told him. If he knew something he wasn’t telling me much! “I asked if he knew what it could be?” he said, perhaps chicken mites, or any bugs really depending as to whether you have allergies or not? He wouldn’t elaborate any further. My guess is he does not really know either, or wasn’t saying in case he was wrong! Regardless he wrote me out a prescription, and told me to use this stuff straight after a hot bath, and to paint it on my body with a paintbrush, just before I went to bed at night.
On my way home I stopped into my agent’s office to complain, about all the dust that had come out of my heating, and that they should have made sure it was cleaned before anybody moved in. I was so upset by this stage! I just wanted to vent my spleen about it and I knew they were partly to blame as well.But they said, “There was nothing wrong with the place when they rented it to me and what ever has happened now was my responsibility.”
I was astounded at their response.
I insisted that my ducted heating be cleaned at the owners expense – and they just laughed at me, like it was some joke or something and said, “It was neither the owners nor their responsibility but mine.” By this stage I was sure they were wrong. I left that office a very angry itchy person, and on the way home I decided to detour to the second doctor’s clinic which I had visited - On entering I noticed the carpet on the floor had been removed; so I enquired as to what happened to it.
Oh! the receptionist said, “It had to be removed, it was full of dust mites”. Wow I thought was it just a coincidence or had it something to do with me being here, I wondered? I went home to ponder about that one too, so obviously I had a few bugs living with me I didn’t know about. I rang consumer affairs, which put me onto the civil administrative tribunal, whom I rang and explained the things that had happened to me. They said, I needed to go through a certain protocol, and that they would send me some forms and information which I needed to fill out.
When the forms arrived in a couple of days, I filled out the appropriate forms: I had to lodge one set with my agent, and the other set went to the civil administrative tribunal. Actually this is what I should have done the moment the problem occurred, but I was so stressed I could not think clearly for the life of me! So I delivered the forms to my agent in person, having another go at them for doing the wrong thing, and said I would take them to court! Then I had to wait a few weeks to see if anything got done if not I would proceed further, I had to see the agents to pay my rent. In the mean time, I asked if they or the owners would get a pest control person to come and assess my situation.
They said they would have to confer with the owner, and when I visited them a few days later, I made sure I was at my best itchiest moment, hoping that what ever I had got would be transferred to their office. (Gee, I’m getting to be a bit bitchy these days? Oh well such is life.) These days, I definitely was not in a good state of mind. In the real estate agents they seemed to notice that to, and in a couple of days, I had a pest control person come to my door. So needless to say I was pleased to see somebody useful turn up. I told him what happened, and he climbed up to check out the ducted heating in the roof, looked around; He said he would set up some sort of trap to catch whatever type of insect that might be about, and left me with certain instructions, saying he would be back the next day, to see what had been lured into the trap.
The next day he came and checked the setups he had left lying about my unit, and he didn’t comment, he just sort of hummed and harred, thanked me and left. Next day he rang me saying he had permission from the owner to fumigate my unit, on such and such day if that was ok with me? But I would have to stay away from my unit for 3 days after it was fumigated. Wow I thought, I obviously had something, or they would not be fumigating, but the pest control guy was not forthcoming with any information, either, and very illusive when I asked questions.
So it was on - the unit would be sprayed and I stayed with a friend of mine for the time needed. Unbeknown to me though, I forgot that I might just bring him some of my “BUGS” with me. They still weren’t out of my system totally. I was worried and said so to my friend but he insisted all was ok! That he would cope and for me not to worry – his home was my home for as long as I need it to be.
That night in my friends home, my head was spinning, thinking about all this, and wondering how far I might have spread these little buggers around? But it seemed obviously that I most likely had lots of dust mites, and god knows what other types of mites. After the fourth day; returning home after my unit had been fumigated I opened all my windows; I made my bed and hoped I would not itch when I went to bed that night. How ever as I settled down to hopefully get a good nights sleep, I did feel a bit of crawling going on under my doona and I immediately went into stress mode. I dragged myself out of bed (oh for a lovely good nights sleep in my own bed!) and I decided to sleep in the lounge room, in my recliner with a couple of blankets for a day or so and using my electric heater to keep me warm, until I got my doona and pillows cleaned professionally, and returned to me, which cost me lot of money.
I had some more clothes dry cleaned and that helped, a lot. I also bought a lot of products to put into my washing machine that would kill any bugs on contact. The trouble is, is that these products left a nasty smell that lingered in my nostrils for a very long time; and it was costly as well as stinky. Oh! Why could I not win against this bloody nuisance of a thing? It seemed to me that whether they were washed and rinsed with the best cleaning agents that I could still smell the chemical odours, for many months.
Then a bright thought struck me as I walked home from another round of nonsense with my doctor, that I should by an electric blanket rather than using the ducted heating any more. Instead of my gas ducted heating keeping me warm I now had an electric heater to keep me warm through winter; Oh God! I still nearly froze, and my bills mounted, and I ended up using my hard earned working dollars to pull me out of this rut I was in. I had to move or I was going to be a nut case in no time at all. I honestly couldn’t believe this was happening to me, I had owned my own home and sometimes it was a struggle, but this problem really topped my list. I had never even taken the owners or the agents to court. I should have, but then I also would have needed to pay for the pest control person, and I just didn’t have the funds. I don’t know how I survived? I looked good I’d lost at least 10 kilos, that was about the only positive outcome of that catastrophe.
It was time to move, and although my itchiness began to slowly disappear over time, while I was preparing to move (except when I socialised with my friend, or when I visited my daughter I’d come home itchy after visiting with her, when I brought this up with her, she told me I was nuts). Obviously neither my daughter nor my friend were allergic; but my friend’s dog scratched like he was on fire all of the time when ever he was at my place or when ever I visited his home. My grandchildren said they itched too from time to time, but were often too scared to say so in front of their mum, as she would just tell them to stop telling tales. And whenever I’d mention bugs she would just start abusing me “saying I didn’t know what I was talking about”, which always left me dumbfounded.
By this time many months has gone by and I had been seeing a counsellor for some time, for my dilemma, and trying to convince her to speak with my daughter, so I could retain some sort of respectful relationship with her. Although my friend warned me against doing this, I had decided to give it a go anyway. This turned out to be the worst thing I could have done. Somehow the situation turned nasty, and obviously the counsellor too didn’t believe me and the tables turned on me. Before I knew it I ended up in a psychiatric ward, and there I stayed for a few weeks. I was in such shock, that this had happened to me, I had done nothing wrong, not to myself or anybody; I could not fathom what I was doing here.
Fear gripped me, and in the months that followed I was being chemically altered against my will. I can’t really bring myself to talk about it, so I’ll go forward a year. At home at last I couldn’t even repeat the word bugs in front of my doctor or daughter, in fear I’d get put right back into the psychiatric ward, which is definitely not a nice place to be for a sane person, let alone for the insane! Later I did some research, and I found out what was tormenting me, but do you think anybody believed me? You would have thought the sores on my body would have been adequate enough to say there’s something not quiet right here? I had bedbugs, and dust mites my irritation was indescribable and no body believed me.
Whilst cleaning the unit out all over again, I did see quiet a few of these insects in the kitchen and in bedroom some in bedroom one and other in bedroom two as well. Luckily tho’ after the fumigation had been done they were good and dead! But I know what they were at the time! They (the bugs) liked to crawl into bed with you when the lights are out at night, and bite you and suck your blood. They leave your with red swollen spots on your skin, which in turn you scratch, and end up with big nasty sores, and they leave scars too. Oh the thought just gives me shivers up my spine! Now I know why there was such a bad smell in my unit! Live and learn! Because the place had been infested with bedbug, and or dust mites at one time.
In time I was driven to diagnosing myself all over again and I went to the internet for more answers, to see if it were possible for anyone to be so minutely sensitive to these things or not. Well guess what? It is quite normal for many people to be very sensitive to these things. Thank God for that I told myself.
As we had reached the hidden gully and valley just before sun down, Billy got out the makings for a fire and went off to hut or so I thought, and with in an hour he had a meal all done and the from the Billy poured out a cuppa rough bush tea for us and then we sat and then Aunty Clarinda sat through my daily grind of a story with ease and patted me on my shoulder from time to time to help ease my burden - as we sat under the old Birch tree at the entrance to the hidden gully and valley. It had obviously been used as a sitting place many times before because there were old bench seats there made from stone and fallen tree branches and an old camp fire as well. It was a lovely time there and Billy Jack had wondered off to do what ever. And after my story was told Aunty smiled and said “Yes dear you have had a hard time of it with those bloody no good bugs” and patted me once more. Then of a sudden I heard a faint wind blowing down the gully and it chilled me coming across my back that way, because the wind was from the south east and not the north east. Aunty noticed my spine and side stiffen and said, come along dear, I have some thing of great importance to show you and off she went back behind us into that gully and up into her hidden valley in a very spritely manner for a woman of her age.
Anyway I followed her in to the darkening night sky and into an even dark valley. A cold wind came rushing through there and it almost most stopped me cold in my tracks. Anyway I went in after Aunty C, and then as I rounded a bend I noticed a bright set of small lights shining out into the darkness and there in the right side of the cliff face was an open door of sorts. And Aunty C and old Billy Jack was there waiting for me to come up to them. With out a word she waved me to close my mouth and to follow her into the mountain entrance of what became to be a huge cavern almost a mile wide or so it seemed to me and at least a hundred feet high, and it was filled with all sorts of gear from mechanical things to chemistry things and refrigerators and generators and all sorts of wonderments. I was stunned to even more silence, beyond belief. Oh was all that escaped through my lips and from the deepest parts of my lungs and soul. How could this have been kept a secret all of these years? It was a wonder to me.
Over the next five hours Aunty C and Billy jack showed me all of its treasures and you can tell they were treasures to me. There was all sorts of black smithing gear and forges of every kind, and engines and just every thing. Then I was told of its history and the reason for its existence and wow I can well imagine why it is still now a secret. Then Aunty showed me the filing cabinets and the research that Uncle Jack was into over all of these years and especially those concerning dust mites and other bugs, and then the gold and silver mine they had discovered and developed and the printing press they had used….I was stunned to utter silence once more.
But what interested me was Aunty C’s story about the bugs Uncle Jack had been experimenting with for the past fifty years. He had unfortunately discovered a way in which to make them resistant to most chemicals and pesticides, which are even now coming on to our local market shelves. And that they were danger only to humans, as they eventually invaded the lungs and ate the inner tissue of the lungs out much slower than smoking did. And that they caused a lot of skin lesions and sores that refused to dry and heal. I was horrified at this revelation so I gasped out “But what happened then, did Uncle Jack find a cure for them before he died?” I knew it was too much to hope for, and my heart began to sink in upon me, and my fears began to increase rapidly. I was frantic and then Aunty C’ smiled and said yes dear, my Jack did find a cure for them. It is through getting a lot of bed sheets and wetting them and then to make them as damp as possible and then to wipe all of the walls and floors and ceilings with these sheets for three days and nights and then to put them in what is now called cotton bags and then to put them into the back pit for the B.B.Q’s and then to burn the lot and then to keep them out of your place you must use a mixture of red gum oil and olive oil to paint all of the floors and walls and ceilings with every four months and to plug up any gaps as well from now on for five years.
I was almost sick to my stomach with the enormity of the problem. I had forgotten about the cure and just my woes all over again like a tidal wave washed over me again and again. I was even wavering on my feet in front of her, and Billy Jack was the first to grab me and to put me on to one of the caves factories chairs before I fainted.
Aunty said we were going to sleep inside the cave for the night and on the morrow we would head back with a little five gallon container of the cure for these horrible bugs. I had forgotten how they could have possibly spread to Melbourne let alone all over Australia, and why had the normal authorities and scientists had not discovered this new bred of bug and dust mite till now? I mean the year is after all two thousand and seven is it not? Anyway I showered in the morning and we had a great breakfast of cereals and croc fried meat and herbs from around the base of the mountains, and of course the rough Billy tea.
On the way back to the ranch in the surrey, Aunty told me all I needed to know about the why’s and wherefores and so on and that as she was nearing her death, it was up to me to keep the place going, for her and for Billy Jack and his family and for the rest of their crew. I had no idea that every one of them were into engineering and the sciences, through out their whole tribe. Every one of their sons and daughters were very highly educated and sworn to keep the place going for ever, and to release some information as to a possible scientific idea or thought that would stimulate our scientists into new areas of work and experimentation. But they did this only after years of their own experimentation and to see if such an idea would work and had worked and if it was needed in our society and for the world at large.
So I had to promise Aunty over the next four weeks of my stay with her that I would now become the new managing owner of their ranch and live the rest of my life out there as well, and if I were to be married that I had to ask certain questions and if the answers were not to such a such specifications, then I was not to marry that person no matter how much I loved him. For that was the condition that Uncle Jack had placed on her before they got married and that it was not until she had agreed with out any kind of reservation to say yes to his demands on her, that they were married and lived the rest of their lives out there no matter what. It was after all a family matter going back five hundred years in his family back in old Scotland. And it was such a lovely thing to know that I had answers to most of all of my life's problems. And living in the country was for me a better thing.
So there I was stuck and I knew it. Then I mused to myself, Yes I can do this and Yes I am going to do this…it was just that simple. Then I smiled to myself…those bugs are here to stay and I am not going to give the scientific world any hints about this or the known cure and eradication for them.......that’ll serve’um right, for stuffing me around all of this time.
The End.
By The Old Man...
Normally I would not have gone to visit Aunty Clarinda, but her letter to me was so profound and compelling that I just had to go. Her place is way out the back of ‘ Wup Wup” and beyond the west black stump. No one in their right mind would want to live out the remainder of her days out on such an isolated property. But that was Aunty Clarinda after Uncle Jack had died twenty years ago now. I mean that they were both good sorts and easy to get along with moist of the time and they certainly put on a great spread when any one of the family visited them. And their property was huge in modern times. It was at least twenty five thousand hectares across the back of the great divide from Orange in central N.S.W. with plenty of water flowing through it most of the year. But they had some strange ideas about growing bugs. And Uncle Jack was a Chemist of sorts and he always was experimenting all of the time. Some of his inventions even worked so he was a good sort after all. But I could not get over Aunty Clarinda’s mysterious letter at all for it read in part like this: “hello my dear child; have you been itching lately, or for a long time now since your fifteenth birthday?” come and see me soon, I can help. Aunty C.
Well what could I say to such an invitation, because in fact I had been itching again lately and definitely since my fifteen birthday. So I really wondered what was up. So I wrote to her and said I was coming out on the next train and coach a month from now.
Her place is a really lovely place and she met me at the coach stop ten miles from her front fence, just over the side of the divide, and we were silent all of the way back to her front porch. As I looked at her I could see that she had not aged a bit since I last saw her twenty years ago, and I wondered about that too. Her cooking was great even if it was done on an old cast iron stove, and that it took longer to prepare and cook as well, as both her and Uncle Jack had done away with most of the modern conveniences along time ago (or so I had thought). Some secrets are worth keeping secret, I was to find out soon enough.
The time now was five pm in the after noon as it had taken the coach another two hours for the detour around, in and through and between the divide to get onto the main road leading to Aunties Clarinda’s place. As the Sun was setting old Billy Jack her Aboriginal Jackeroo came out smiling his warm smile as ever he had done in the fifty years he had worked for Uncle Jack and Aunty Clarinda. He was a welcome sight for sore eyes as well. My memory flashed back to the times when I was only nine and my parents took us to visit with them back in sixty three for Christmas holidays. Well we had a time there I can well remember it now.
Over the next four days we walked and talked and fed our selves and went for our usual buggy rides all over the property with Billy Jack along side of us driving the wagon come buggy, for they seldom used her car or the work trucks Uncle Jack had originally needed to set his place up just right for them back in the twenties. And even after the great war Uncle Jack seldom used modern equipment. They both disliked the television and all of the newspapers.
But they did like the radio from time to time and visiting every one around them, and having great big dances on their property twice a year. But I am misleading myself. Aunty Clarinda on the fourth day took me out behind the ranch toward black hole mountain gully, which was a hidden gully about five miles behind the ranch house and living quarters for the hands (who were very loyal and all Aboriginal). On the way around there, she opened up and asked me about my itchiness and when did it first start? I though she was asking about my recent problems with my rash and breathing problems which the doctor never seemed to believe me; though how she could have known about that, I may never know the answer to.
So I told her all about my recent woes – for I spoke to her about it in this way:
Oh Aunty - It all began when I moved into a new place; It wasn’t the best of places as I was sleeping on a mattress on the floor of my friends house, rather than take just any old place from those called crooked real estate agents, that are loose all over Melbourne these days; soon though I got desperate to take pot luck; so I took what I was able to find. I was a bit dubious about taking the unit because it had quite an odour about it, and the agent who was showing me around insisted that it would disappear after a few days of open windows. What I liked about this place was that it had large, high ceilings, and two large bedrooms which was more than I needed and the place was reasonably priced - It also had ducted heating, which is what I really needed during the winter months; how ever it really wasn’t in that great a shape, but it was better than nothing, and it was well located to the shopping in the area I wanted to live in.
I moved in during the summer, and thought myself quite lucky, because it seemed to be really cool in my unit, but as the days went by the smell did not disappear, and don’t ever tell me that a smell means every thing is alright, cause it aint; even after spraying with air fresheners, and burning oils did not get rid of the smell. I basically had my windows open day and night through out the summer; and a bigger trouble was looming although I could not see it at the time; the smell was starting to go through my clothes, and through my bed clothes as well and I could really notice the smell on myself when I went out.
I was beginning to smell badly, even though I showered. The more I scratched my head over it, the more I found that I could do nothing about it; I started to feel quite uncomfortable every time I went out. How ever a small twist began to happen and I noticed that the cooler it got the smell seemed to disappear more and more, but never completely. I was in a real mess with what to do about it and I really was not wanting to move again! You see, I was in the middle of a lease, so I knew I couldn’t. Melbourne as some will know is a fascinating place, especially with its many weather patern’s . Here in October of 1995, the eather was a bit different and more cooler than usual. Anyway I perked myself up with, “Well at least the weather was cooling down,” so I decided to run the heating. So after, eating breakfast one day I switched the heating on and went for a walk for an hour or so, looking forward to the warmth of the unit when I got back.
But on returning from my walk, I opened my door, and a thick was of dust and what appeared to be a fine thick mist of dust. I was stunned! Covering my nose and mouth I ducked down as low as I could, and rushed to turn off the heating, and opened all the windows, and put on a fan to blow the mist out, and then went for another walk of 5-10 minutes and came back again hoping most would have cleared except for the second bedroom where most of my things were stored. But no! It was not long enough; so I went for another walk and this time for an hour and a half; When I returned it was all still a bit misty, so I kept my front door open and then opened my back door hoping for a breeze to flow through to dissipate the dust somehow. I was so shocked to see all the dust that was there I would never use the ducted heating again. I had to do some thing; I was getting desperate so I dragged my vacuum cleaner out - “hooray I cried to myself - here comes Sadie the cleaning lady.”
I worked my self into a frenzy; vacuuming the curtains, my bedding and every nook and cranny. What I was really worried about was the clothes I’d left lying around, which had not been put away, for the past three days, as I had an abundance of clothing, and most of it was now so dust affected that I thought of throwing every thing out! The bedding as well.
But I decided to put every thing into plastic bags for the time being, until I could think about how I was going to handle this problem.
Yuk! Even handling my clothing left me feeling itchy, and my breathing became more and more difficult; I felt so stressed, I did what ever sensible woman would do in such situations - I burst into tears and immediately went for a shower. That relieved the chest pains and breathing problems for the moment, and it took away the itchiness, temporarily, and the clothes were like red flags to a bull and they went straight into the wash. After six hours of this stuff and nonsense I was exhausted and I still had a second bedroom to clean, but decided to tackle that another time. I was just too exhausted to care further. I was pooped.
In between all of this some where some how I managed to grab something to eat, without cooking and went to bed early. In bed was worse than being on a blind ate with a sand groper; I slept badly through the night tossing and turning and itching, and my breathing became laboured again and again - I had barely slept four hours and woken up cold, itching, and had trouble breathing and felt like something was crawling and spreading like a creeper vine all over me; but I was too tired to register the seriousness of this attack for on me for now.
Suddenly, I shot up bolt upright and was off and running for the bathroom, throwing up as I went, then grabbing a face washer, and soaking it in hot water wiping my self all over - cleaning myself up and trying to get rid of the itching. Have you ever had a bad night on the grog or with chicken pox? No, well good for you. As for me I was so tired and I still had to clean up the mess that had been made. I remade my bed, then jumped into it and tried to get more sleep! If there is a God, I cried to myself, then please, please give me a break! I slept for a while, only to wake up itching again, and again, and feeling like something was crawling all over me in tidal waves – always coming and going with no cessation in sight. To the bathroom again to wipe myself over with a face washer again and using a special fine comb to run through my hair, that you would use for nits rather than shower again.
As dawn broke over Melbourne my eye lids fought them selves to open against the Gue that was keeping them shut tight; Oh for a miracle I thought, while struggling to get up, not really knowing what time it was, and wishing like some one would come and rescue me from this dismal trap.
Morning it was though, and so I determined to myself that if God was not going to help me then he had better stay out of my sight for good or else. I even forgot to make myself breakfast of cereals and milk and some toast with marmalade. I was so determined to figure this out for myself that I spent the next six days washing the floors and doing the laundry from morning to night, time just slipped by so fast and I seldom thought of food – just sleep and then return to the routine of the dungeon. I was really beginning to waste away when a friend called me on the phone to see how I was doing.
So I told him “that from the third day till now ten days later, I began to wash the floors everyday with disinfectant, and washing my clothes in really hot water and disinfectant, showering twice a day sometimes; ironing everyday, hoping that would kill anything that didn’t die in the wash.
Spraying my mattress, and base with different kinds of insect killer, or anything I could get me hands on, not knowing what was giving me the itches, and bites – then I told him how close to total exhaustion I was really in: By now I had lapse into a ritual too stressed to think clearly and I even forgot his telephone till he showed up three hours later. Taking a much need break with him I realised they (THE BUGS) weren’t being killed in the normal wash because I would get itchy again after bringing them in from being hung out in the air. I told my friend that I had to go shopping and get more stronger chemicals, or all would be lost and I would end up a mental case after all. You know some thing, my mind really went into over drive to sort this mess out.
I was really beside myself, unable to sleep properly, or to even get on with any sort of normality and as much as my friend helped, to me he was in the way – as the old Sadie the cleaning ladie would win out after all. I think he realised that I was well in over my head and was in to self determination one more time, and I think he left quietly rather than make a fan fare out of every thing. This stuff was driving me nuts; I was like this for days, or weeks. Time and seasons had no more meaning for from then on in.
I wasn’t sure when it was that I eventually thought about visiting my doctor, by the time I got to see him I had reddish sores on my head and body, and I do mean all over my body, as well as the itching that occurred on and off. I had scratched myself stupid, and I had developed nasty sores which didn’t heal to well to boot.
By the time I visited my doctor, my lungs were wheezing, I itched and was very sleepless. I was in fact a wreck and very haggard. I told him about what had happened, and showed him most of the places of where I itched, and the nurse took samples from my sores on my body for laboratory testing; my doctor gave me antibiotics, and a puffer to use.
He said, “Obviously I was allergic to something”! Some thing, great Ceasar’s ghost some thing he says so mildly I could have strangled him; I had also complained of a lot of pain in my wrists and back, and he gave me a script for pain killers. I told him of waking up many times in the middle of the night with numb fingers. So he sent me to a specialist to have my hands tested.
As I walked to the chemist, I was so blood thirsty for his blood as he didn’t give me anything to relieve my itching it was driving me nuts. Wow, talk about the wicked witch in the movie The Wizard of Oz. I was in a very ugly mood, I can, tell you that for nothing. After the chemist I was deciding whether it was better to go and stay with my cousins place or go home. Oh God, I was scared of going home. Then I got mad with myself and forced myself to go home. Going home was a struggle but I made it. Once there, I found some flat brown, bugs crawling round in my kitchen, and some in my bedroom, then some red looking ones that looked like the brown ones except that they were red. I didn’t know what they were? I caught a few of them in each room and placed them in small jars. And in the morning, I took them to the Melbourne museum, to have them assessed, but that didn’t turn up anything new.
I was at my wits end, not knowing what was giving me this dreadful itching! I fell across my bed as I had had to do so often these days and cried my self into a fitful sleep, which lasted all night.
In the morning, all I knew of what I was doing was when I came to in the shower, suddenly realising that it was a very hot shower and instead of being scared of being burned, it actually gave me some temporary relief, but there’s only so many very hot showers in a day a person really needed, and I was surpassing that amount already. On returning to the doctors, four days later, he could not tell me anything new. I was so annoyed. Could he not see the despair I was in? did I not look like a witch and a hag? What was wrong with this man? All he could tell me was that the samples taken had not shown what had caused the sores.
I was a mess, mentally and physically, and when I spoke about the itching and the bites, I was sure my doctor was not taking me seriously looking at me as if I was from mars or something. He basically suggested the itching was all in my head! In my head! What was he saying that I was imagining it all up? What a dill he was.
I was livid at his conclusions; knowing full well it was very real. For some time I ran around like a chook with its head on. Over the next seven days, I went to a doctor’s clinic closer to home in an effort to get my problem resolved, and somebody more sympathetic to my needs.
I walked into the clinic, but I couldn’t get an appointment that day, so I went to another, I had the same problem there. I had developed sores and they itched and I scratched. After another weary and uneventful day, I had decided to go home and shower and have a rethink. I was way too stressed about it, and I was really very angry, with doctors, in general by this time and with the real estate agents who had sucked me in with regards with this dump. I said to my self “ how they could rent out accommodation that was in such a state!”
Each day I would walk home with a scowl on my face, and totally exhausted in my mind body and soul and walked with a pace I’m sure nobody would keep up with. One of my neighbours spotted me and asked me “why I had a scowl on my face?”I told her of my itching problem, she took a step back from me, and she looked at me seriously, and asked “had I had that problem long?” I said, “ever since I ran my ducted heating about a month ago maybe more now! She was silent a moment, then said, “I’ll tell you something but your place and you are not to repeat who the story came from”, I said okay! What else could I say and do at that moment? Standing there itching, but willing to listen to what this elderly lady had to say as she lived behind me and she would have full view of anything that might have happened in my unit, I was all ears.
As she told me, “prior to me - Asians had lived in my unit, and they would bring live chickens home and they lived in cages in their home and put them out in the backyard, and kill them one by one, then pluck them and cook them. But they were lazy with payments of their rent and the place was filthy and stank all of the time and we all had to complain to the agents about them; and so they were eventually kicked out a month before you moved in.
And during winter they would try to clean the place: But during winter they would also leave the back door open while killing the chickens and dumping the offal out in the yard instead of in the rubbish bins in bags. That she had seen them doing these things for her own eyes each time they killed a chicken. All this was done during winter, just a yard or so from the intake valve of the ducted heating, sucking up whatever was floating about in the air!” Now I was intrigued as well as itchy. I thanked her, for the information, and said, “I needed to go home and shower.” It got me wondering now whether they were healthy chickens or not? I went home to ponder all she has said, while I was showering.
Afterwards I rang another doctor’s clinic, and was only able to get an appointment in 5 days time, I was so upset, and very very angry. When my appointment came around I told the doctor what my neighbour had told me. I complained about my constant itching, and showed him my bites. He looked at me and smiled, and then seriously said, “It used to happen often in the old days; you might need to get your ducted heating cleaned and the place fumigated. (I was so relieved to think that he was finally beginning to believe me.)
If only it were that easy I told him. If he knew something he wasn’t telling me much! “I asked if he knew what it could be?” he said, perhaps chicken mites, or any bugs really depending as to whether you have allergies or not? He wouldn’t elaborate any further. My guess is he does not really know either, or wasn’t saying in case he was wrong! Regardless he wrote me out a prescription, and told me to use this stuff straight after a hot bath, and to paint it on my body with a paintbrush, just before I went to bed at night.
On my way home I stopped into my agent’s office to complain, about all the dust that had come out of my heating, and that they should have made sure it was cleaned before anybody moved in. I was so upset by this stage! I just wanted to vent my spleen about it and I knew they were partly to blame as well.But they said, “There was nothing wrong with the place when they rented it to me and what ever has happened now was my responsibility.”
I was astounded at their response.
I insisted that my ducted heating be cleaned at the owners expense – and they just laughed at me, like it was some joke or something and said, “It was neither the owners nor their responsibility but mine.” By this stage I was sure they were wrong. I left that office a very angry itchy person, and on the way home I decided to detour to the second doctor’s clinic which I had visited - On entering I noticed the carpet on the floor had been removed; so I enquired as to what happened to it.
Oh! the receptionist said, “It had to be removed, it was full of dust mites”. Wow I thought was it just a coincidence or had it something to do with me being here, I wondered? I went home to ponder about that one too, so obviously I had a few bugs living with me I didn’t know about. I rang consumer affairs, which put me onto the civil administrative tribunal, whom I rang and explained the things that had happened to me. They said, I needed to go through a certain protocol, and that they would send me some forms and information which I needed to fill out.
When the forms arrived in a couple of days, I filled out the appropriate forms: I had to lodge one set with my agent, and the other set went to the civil administrative tribunal. Actually this is what I should have done the moment the problem occurred, but I was so stressed I could not think clearly for the life of me! So I delivered the forms to my agent in person, having another go at them for doing the wrong thing, and said I would take them to court! Then I had to wait a few weeks to see if anything got done if not I would proceed further, I had to see the agents to pay my rent. In the mean time, I asked if they or the owners would get a pest control person to come and assess my situation.
They said they would have to confer with the owner, and when I visited them a few days later, I made sure I was at my best itchiest moment, hoping that what ever I had got would be transferred to their office. (Gee, I’m getting to be a bit bitchy these days? Oh well such is life.) These days, I definitely was not in a good state of mind. In the real estate agents they seemed to notice that to, and in a couple of days, I had a pest control person come to my door. So needless to say I was pleased to see somebody useful turn up. I told him what happened, and he climbed up to check out the ducted heating in the roof, looked around; He said he would set up some sort of trap to catch whatever type of insect that might be about, and left me with certain instructions, saying he would be back the next day, to see what had been lured into the trap.
The next day he came and checked the setups he had left lying about my unit, and he didn’t comment, he just sort of hummed and harred, thanked me and left. Next day he rang me saying he had permission from the owner to fumigate my unit, on such and such day if that was ok with me? But I would have to stay away from my unit for 3 days after it was fumigated. Wow I thought, I obviously had something, or they would not be fumigating, but the pest control guy was not forthcoming with any information, either, and very illusive when I asked questions.
So it was on - the unit would be sprayed and I stayed with a friend of mine for the time needed. Unbeknown to me though, I forgot that I might just bring him some of my “BUGS” with me. They still weren’t out of my system totally. I was worried and said so to my friend but he insisted all was ok! That he would cope and for me not to worry – his home was my home for as long as I need it to be.
That night in my friends home, my head was spinning, thinking about all this, and wondering how far I might have spread these little buggers around? But it seemed obviously that I most likely had lots of dust mites, and god knows what other types of mites. After the fourth day; returning home after my unit had been fumigated I opened all my windows; I made my bed and hoped I would not itch when I went to bed that night. How ever as I settled down to hopefully get a good nights sleep, I did feel a bit of crawling going on under my doona and I immediately went into stress mode. I dragged myself out of bed (oh for a lovely good nights sleep in my own bed!) and I decided to sleep in the lounge room, in my recliner with a couple of blankets for a day or so and using my electric heater to keep me warm, until I got my doona and pillows cleaned professionally, and returned to me, which cost me lot of money.
I had some more clothes dry cleaned and that helped, a lot. I also bought a lot of products to put into my washing machine that would kill any bugs on contact. The trouble is, is that these products left a nasty smell that lingered in my nostrils for a very long time; and it was costly as well as stinky. Oh! Why could I not win against this bloody nuisance of a thing? It seemed to me that whether they were washed and rinsed with the best cleaning agents that I could still smell the chemical odours, for many months.
Then a bright thought struck me as I walked home from another round of nonsense with my doctor, that I should by an electric blanket rather than using the ducted heating any more. Instead of my gas ducted heating keeping me warm I now had an electric heater to keep me warm through winter; Oh God! I still nearly froze, and my bills mounted, and I ended up using my hard earned working dollars to pull me out of this rut I was in. I had to move or I was going to be a nut case in no time at all. I honestly couldn’t believe this was happening to me, I had owned my own home and sometimes it was a struggle, but this problem really topped my list. I had never even taken the owners or the agents to court. I should have, but then I also would have needed to pay for the pest control person, and I just didn’t have the funds. I don’t know how I survived? I looked good I’d lost at least 10 kilos, that was about the only positive outcome of that catastrophe.
It was time to move, and although my itchiness began to slowly disappear over time, while I was preparing to move (except when I socialised with my friend, or when I visited my daughter I’d come home itchy after visiting with her, when I brought this up with her, she told me I was nuts). Obviously neither my daughter nor my friend were allergic; but my friend’s dog scratched like he was on fire all of the time when ever he was at my place or when ever I visited his home. My grandchildren said they itched too from time to time, but were often too scared to say so in front of their mum, as she would just tell them to stop telling tales. And whenever I’d mention bugs she would just start abusing me “saying I didn’t know what I was talking about”, which always left me dumbfounded.
By this time many months has gone by and I had been seeing a counsellor for some time, for my dilemma, and trying to convince her to speak with my daughter, so I could retain some sort of respectful relationship with her. Although my friend warned me against doing this, I had decided to give it a go anyway. This turned out to be the worst thing I could have done. Somehow the situation turned nasty, and obviously the counsellor too didn’t believe me and the tables turned on me. Before I knew it I ended up in a psychiatric ward, and there I stayed for a few weeks. I was in such shock, that this had happened to me, I had done nothing wrong, not to myself or anybody; I could not fathom what I was doing here.
Fear gripped me, and in the months that followed I was being chemically altered against my will. I can’t really bring myself to talk about it, so I’ll go forward a year. At home at last I couldn’t even repeat the word bugs in front of my doctor or daughter, in fear I’d get put right back into the psychiatric ward, which is definitely not a nice place to be for a sane person, let alone for the insane! Later I did some research, and I found out what was tormenting me, but do you think anybody believed me? You would have thought the sores on my body would have been adequate enough to say there’s something not quiet right here? I had bedbugs, and dust mites my irritation was indescribable and no body believed me.
Whilst cleaning the unit out all over again, I did see quiet a few of these insects in the kitchen and in bedroom some in bedroom one and other in bedroom two as well. Luckily tho’ after the fumigation had been done they were good and dead! But I know what they were at the time! They (the bugs) liked to crawl into bed with you when the lights are out at night, and bite you and suck your blood. They leave your with red swollen spots on your skin, which in turn you scratch, and end up with big nasty sores, and they leave scars too. Oh the thought just gives me shivers up my spine! Now I know why there was such a bad smell in my unit! Live and learn! Because the place had been infested with bedbug, and or dust mites at one time.
In time I was driven to diagnosing myself all over again and I went to the internet for more answers, to see if it were possible for anyone to be so minutely sensitive to these things or not. Well guess what? It is quite normal for many people to be very sensitive to these things. Thank God for that I told myself.
As we had reached the hidden gully and valley just before sun down, Billy got out the makings for a fire and went off to hut or so I thought, and with in an hour he had a meal all done and the from the Billy poured out a cuppa rough bush tea for us and then we sat and then Aunty Clarinda sat through my daily grind of a story with ease and patted me on my shoulder from time to time to help ease my burden - as we sat under the old Birch tree at the entrance to the hidden gully and valley. It had obviously been used as a sitting place many times before because there were old bench seats there made from stone and fallen tree branches and an old camp fire as well. It was a lovely time there and Billy Jack had wondered off to do what ever. And after my story was told Aunty smiled and said “Yes dear you have had a hard time of it with those bloody no good bugs” and patted me once more. Then of a sudden I heard a faint wind blowing down the gully and it chilled me coming across my back that way, because the wind was from the south east and not the north east. Aunty noticed my spine and side stiffen and said, come along dear, I have some thing of great importance to show you and off she went back behind us into that gully and up into her hidden valley in a very spritely manner for a woman of her age.
Anyway I followed her in to the darkening night sky and into an even dark valley. A cold wind came rushing through there and it almost most stopped me cold in my tracks. Anyway I went in after Aunty C, and then as I rounded a bend I noticed a bright set of small lights shining out into the darkness and there in the right side of the cliff face was an open door of sorts. And Aunty C and old Billy Jack was there waiting for me to come up to them. With out a word she waved me to close my mouth and to follow her into the mountain entrance of what became to be a huge cavern almost a mile wide or so it seemed to me and at least a hundred feet high, and it was filled with all sorts of gear from mechanical things to chemistry things and refrigerators and generators and all sorts of wonderments. I was stunned to even more silence, beyond belief. Oh was all that escaped through my lips and from the deepest parts of my lungs and soul. How could this have been kept a secret all of these years? It was a wonder to me.
Over the next five hours Aunty C and Billy jack showed me all of its treasures and you can tell they were treasures to me. There was all sorts of black smithing gear and forges of every kind, and engines and just every thing. Then I was told of its history and the reason for its existence and wow I can well imagine why it is still now a secret. Then Aunty showed me the filing cabinets and the research that Uncle Jack was into over all of these years and especially those concerning dust mites and other bugs, and then the gold and silver mine they had discovered and developed and the printing press they had used….I was stunned to utter silence once more.
But what interested me was Aunty C’s story about the bugs Uncle Jack had been experimenting with for the past fifty years. He had unfortunately discovered a way in which to make them resistant to most chemicals and pesticides, which are even now coming on to our local market shelves. And that they were danger only to humans, as they eventually invaded the lungs and ate the inner tissue of the lungs out much slower than smoking did. And that they caused a lot of skin lesions and sores that refused to dry and heal. I was horrified at this revelation so I gasped out “But what happened then, did Uncle Jack find a cure for them before he died?” I knew it was too much to hope for, and my heart began to sink in upon me, and my fears began to increase rapidly. I was frantic and then Aunty C’ smiled and said yes dear, my Jack did find a cure for them. It is through getting a lot of bed sheets and wetting them and then to make them as damp as possible and then to wipe all of the walls and floors and ceilings with these sheets for three days and nights and then to put them in what is now called cotton bags and then to put them into the back pit for the B.B.Q’s and then to burn the lot and then to keep them out of your place you must use a mixture of red gum oil and olive oil to paint all of the floors and walls and ceilings with every four months and to plug up any gaps as well from now on for five years.
I was almost sick to my stomach with the enormity of the problem. I had forgotten about the cure and just my woes all over again like a tidal wave washed over me again and again. I was even wavering on my feet in front of her, and Billy Jack was the first to grab me and to put me on to one of the caves factories chairs before I fainted.
Aunty said we were going to sleep inside the cave for the night and on the morrow we would head back with a little five gallon container of the cure for these horrible bugs. I had forgotten how they could have possibly spread to Melbourne let alone all over Australia, and why had the normal authorities and scientists had not discovered this new bred of bug and dust mite till now? I mean the year is after all two thousand and seven is it not? Anyway I showered in the morning and we had a great breakfast of cereals and croc fried meat and herbs from around the base of the mountains, and of course the rough Billy tea.
On the way back to the ranch in the surrey, Aunty told me all I needed to know about the why’s and wherefores and so on and that as she was nearing her death, it was up to me to keep the place going, for her and for Billy Jack and his family and for the rest of their crew. I had no idea that every one of them were into engineering and the sciences, through out their whole tribe. Every one of their sons and daughters were very highly educated and sworn to keep the place going for ever, and to release some information as to a possible scientific idea or thought that would stimulate our scientists into new areas of work and experimentation. But they did this only after years of their own experimentation and to see if such an idea would work and had worked and if it was needed in our society and for the world at large.
So I had to promise Aunty over the next four weeks of my stay with her that I would now become the new managing owner of their ranch and live the rest of my life out there as well, and if I were to be married that I had to ask certain questions and if the answers were not to such a such specifications, then I was not to marry that person no matter how much I loved him. For that was the condition that Uncle Jack had placed on her before they got married and that it was not until she had agreed with out any kind of reservation to say yes to his demands on her, that they were married and lived the rest of their lives out there no matter what. It was after all a family matter going back five hundred years in his family back in old Scotland. And it was such a lovely thing to know that I had answers to most of all of my life's problems. And living in the country was for me a better thing.
So there I was stuck and I knew it. Then I mused to myself, Yes I can do this and Yes I am going to do this…it was just that simple. Then I smiled to myself…those bugs are here to stay and I am not going to give the scientific world any hints about this or the known cure and eradication for them.......that’ll serve’um right, for stuffing me around all of this time.
The End.
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