She Explains Why She Always Sleeps With Earplugs. If You Read This, You Will Too

March 25, 2015

If you have any sort of bug phobia, turn back now. Even if you don't, you probably shouldn't read any further. And for those that are brave enough to continue, good luck sleeping tonight...

scary sleep story
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I had just moved into a newly constructed home in Corpus Christi, Texas. It was a military move, so all my belongings had been packed by a contract mover, and trucked from my previous duty station in Florida. The contractors did a "full unpack", which basically means they dump everything out of boxes, and take the wrapping paper and boxes with them. All of my wardrobe, bed linen, towels, etc. were in huge piles everywhere. I'm an obsessive neat freak, so even one day with my home in disarray was really getting to me. After an entire day of moving, unpacking, and trying to organize, my husband and I were beat. We decided to fall asleep, and start again the following day.

Sometime around midnight, I woke up with a headache and pain in my ear. My husband was still a little drowsy, as I woke him up and asked if he would take a look at it. He first tried to look in my ear with the lights off, and I got annoyed. I told him to get up and turn on the light. He flipped the light on and started looking in my ear.

"Can you see anything?" I asked. "There's a spider in your ear," he answered calmly. "What? Haha, yeah right. Seriously. Do I have an ear infection or something?" He simply repeated himself, "You have a spider in your ear."

".....what?! Seriously?????"

" Have a spider in your ear..."

At this point, I become more aware of the the pain, pressure, and fullness in my ear.

"Get it out!!! OH MY GOD!"

My husband runs to the bathroom and grabs a Q-tip. He sits down and proceeds to poke at my ear. This is where everything goes awry.

That thing started wriggling to get deeper into my ear. I hear a loud, "WOOSH WOOSH WOOSH" sound and the pain increases 10 fold.

I'm now utterly panicked and crippled with pain. The angry ear invader stops scratching, and I tell my husband to get tweezers, and I curl into the fetal position on the bed. He comes back and starts his extraction. He reaches in, and I feel the bug start to get very active, and then suddenly starts clawing deeper into my ear like an angry hellbeast.

"I pulled off its leg," he says, coolly.

At least, I think that's what he said. I'm deafened by the sound of this horrifying creature now tearing it's way into the deepest recesses of my inner ear, crippled by the pain inside my head. Over my own screaming and crying, I look down at the disembodied leg.

It's not a spider leg.

It's a cockroach leg.

Anyone from the south knows about Palmetto bugs, which is really just a fancy name for giant, fear inducing cockroaches that fly.

I have a meltdown. A cockroach is a million times worse than a spider. I jump up and run to the bathroom, screaming and slamming my hand onto my other ear, trying to shake it out. My husband pushes me over to the sink and shoves my head under the faucet, trying to flush it out, but every millimeter of space in my ear is full of horrific cockroach. For some reason, he pulls my pajama top off. I still ask him why, but he doesn't know. Either he didn't want my shirt to get wet, or titties. I finally tell my husband to call 911, and on the phone, he's starting to get a little panicked. I hear him tell the operator about 4 times that, "My wife has a bumblebee in her ear." I kept being annoyed that he said bumblebee, because

A) It was a Chernobyl mutant super-cockroach and

B) "Bumblebee in her ear" sounds super idiotic and pussy.

The medics arrived and start asking me stupid ass questions and acting like the whole ordeal is no biggie. They shine a light into my ear to make it, "run out." This does nothing. Every few seconds, I feel it clawing and biting and scratching deep in my ear, deafening me and causing inescapable pain.

The medics tell my husband to take me to the emergency room, or just wait it out. I immediately toss my stuff in the car and we drive all the way across town to a ghetto emergency room. The mutant cockroach still trying to exact revenge for losing his leg.

When the doctor finally gets into my room, he explains he's brand new. He's visibly shaken up by the roach-ear situation, and has his nurse put some solution in that is supposed to kill it and numb my ear. It didn't work because the bug had sealed my ear completely shut. Doogie starts digging at my ear with forceps, and the roach goes insane, making a last ditch effort to destroy me as it is getting dismembered. The nurse, my husband, and the doctor all have a horrified look on their face, as he rips tiny pieces of bug out and places them on the operating paper. Bits of leg and wing are scattered all over it. The doctor loses it over the bug graveyard, and suggests that the nurse just sedate me, and that I go to an ENT the next day. I'm in no place to disagree, and despite the huge amount of pain, the bug is dead and no longer clawing. The doctor places cotton over my ear, for what? I don't know. The nurse loads me up with something that makes me not give a damn.

I go home and cannot sleep, even with the tranquilizer they shot me full of. My mind is racing, thinking about the partial roach corpse languishing in my sinus cavity. The second the ENT opened that morning, I was in there.

Feeling him pull that thing out was the single most satisfying and horrifying moment of my life. He removed the remnants in nearly one piece, much more skillfully than the ER newbie.

The ENT said it was the largest insect he had ever seen in an ear. (Apparently he gets several cases of ear-bugs per week, wtf?) The roach was about an inch long and 3/4" wide. It had destroyed my tympanic membrane and broke the bones in my ear. It's been a while, but I still have problems with that ear. I also still sleep with earplugs.

This story was originally shared by goosegoosegoosegoose.

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