When is a tick not a tick, but a herring?

Some of you might remember a few months back we hit a bit of a bump in the road when Juddy, while performing a reverse half pike with a twist into a creek somewhere, partially tore her cruciate ligament. This caused a fair bit of consternation at the time but the Universe and the good vets of far North Queensland looked after us and we went on our merry way, armed with anti-inflammatories and a roll of gaffa tape.

Fast forward to a week or so ago. We were happily puddling around on our little break on the Sunshine Coast, enjoying the hospitality of family, and trying not to annoy anyone too much with our rowdiness. Accidentally, over dinner one night, I discovered a tick on my neck. Unpleasant, but lucky it was just family to dinner and not the King. It didn't seem to have burrowed in and came off in one piece so we carried on with dinner and didn't think about it again. Well, not much.

At this point I'll interrupt my story to reassure the Labs' many fans that they are well-protected with the best tick treatment my money can buy. One kind friend suggested that perhaps I should invest in a tick collar for myself. But back to the story of the tick and the herring.

Fast forward a bit further to last Friday, when we encountered Significant Speed Bump Number 2. While queuing for a fish and chip lunch I suddenly lost the energy to wait in line any longer. Most followers know by now how much I enjoy a good feed of F 'n' C so this was a little odd. I also started to feel very cold. So cold that my teeth were chattering and my whole body was shaking. Not what you expect in Queensland in November. Something was afoot. Fortunately we had human company and got home in time for me to realise that a hot water bottle and a couple of paracetamol wasn't going to do the job.

The Labs were left to play amongst themselves at base-camp (under watchful human eyes - they can be mischievous when left to their own devices) and I was ferried to the nearest ED where I was quickly taken out the back to be dealt with. After ruling out covid, flu and other viral and respiratory nasties, the search for a cause moved from my lungs to other parts, and it was generally agreed that I had some kind of raging infection. I was hoping to be given a bottle of pills and be sent on my way. But the machine-that-goes-ping had other ideas and I was admitted, sent to a ward for serious things and have been here ever since.

The cause? Well, as one clever doctor put it, the tick was a red herring. So not that. But the concept tickled my fancy a bit.

What, then? It seems that somewhere, in the past several weeks of tramping through partially flooded and muddy campgrounds en route to the amenities while wearing thongs (flip-flops for the benefit of our British friends) a nasty bug got under my skin, probably via one of the hundred mosquito or midge bites I've scratched at, and is wreaking havoc. The medical term is Celulitis.

Let this be a lesson to all fellow travellers... always pack your wellies!!

But no need to start looking for tissues and condolence cards just yet. While I'll be making the most of my private health insurance for a couple more days, I expect the lovely doctors and staff at Noosa Hospital will tire of my company before too long and I'll be sent on my way.

"But what of the Labs?", I hear you ask. They've been very well looked after by my wonderful family and again, the three of us consider ourselves to be very lucky. If this had happened anywhere but here, the bump in the road would have been a lot harder to negotiate.

It appears the Universe is still looking out for us. And if you don't believe that, here's the view from my hospital bed.