First of all, that Spiderman movie is a total lie. I have not acquired any special powers. But I did acquire a severe case of Hypo-over-reaction-stress-chondriac Syndrome. Of course, that's not a word, but it should be a diagnosis.

So, when I became aware of this bite on Sunday evening, the first thing I did was run to the computer and look up "Brown Recluse Spider bite." Yep, that's it. My bite looked like the bite on the computer. As I continued to research my pending doom, I looked at at worst case bite pictures. That's when I developed Hypo-over-reaction-stress-chondriac Syndrome.   

I hate spider bites. I hate going to the doctor even more. So I started to rationalize every reason why I should not seek life saving medical attention. Telling myself things like, "It will go away." Or, "I don't need that hunk of skin anyway." It was at this point when people around me started telling me that I needed to see a doc "right now." I did what every middle age Kansas man does at a time like this. I would wait until tomorrow and see if it's any worse.

The next day, it was worse. I got to work and showed a few people the bite. After they stopped vomiting, they told me it would be a "wise" decision to see the doctor. My bosses wife was a BR Spider victim a few years ago. He told me my bite, "looked exactly like hers, before all the skin fell off." My Hypo-over-reaction-stress-chondriac Syndrome was in full force. It was at this point that I decided to see the doctor.

So I did. He gave me some medicine, and the bite is slowly going away. Best of all, my Hypo-over-reaction-stress-chondriac Syndrome is also subsiding. But I'm sure it will come back this summer when I get poked by some rusty barbed wire. Tetanus shot? Lock Jaw? .. I'll wait until tomorrow and see if it's any worse.