Argentine Ants

Argentine Ants

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The other day my son Ben, here in Etzatlan to help me in recovery, showed me a video he and his daughter Lexi had enjoyed. The animated video by a German scientist with an unpronounceable name demonstrated characteristics and world migration of Argentine Ants.

"Arrgh!: I shouted. "I know those ants. Intimately. I've eaten some. Inadvertently. They are a kitchen plague. All of us here battle them continuously. Now I can name them. Imagine that."

Argentine Ants. These buggers are teeny-tiny, so small they resemble a little brown dash. They seemingly come from nowhere, in hordes. Leave one simple crumb of food on the counter and Argentine Ants will answer the siren call.

The cartoon-like video fascinated me, only because I fight these critters most days. They win. Always.

Take yesterday. Leo squeezed oranges for fresh juice for me while Ben was busy with a different chore. Leo did not rigorously clean the counter upon which juice splashed in the squeezing.

Me, normally, following a juice chore, I scrub the counter and near-by surfaces with soap about eight times to make sure it is clean. I am not a clean freak. A little dirt is a good thing. I scrub the sugary enticement to keep ants away.

Sure enough, within a couple hours, ants marching in disorganized lines, found each sugary splatter and feasted. "Spray them with vinegar," I told Ben. "Then wash the surface--a lot." He did. I keep a small spray bottle of white vinegar on the counter. Nothing keeps these ants away permanently. But vinegar kills what is there.

That night I could not sleep. I heard the Cathedral bells annouce the midnight hour. 1:00. 2:00. What am I to do? Into my frustrated mind popped the video of Argentine ants invading the warmer sections of the entire world, carried there by who else, travelers, in their suitcases, in shipping cargo containers.

Cartoon images, lines of ants marched from Argentina and Uruaguay, infesting other regions of the warmer world. Ah, ha, I said to myself. I can use this. My body is a microcosm of the world. I will visualize hordes of ants marching throughout my body-world, gathering the good healing properties and settling into the area of my incision, speeding healing. Within minutes I settled into a calm sleep.

That night marked a turning point in my recovery. Humor me. Okay?

After that, whenever I felt restless in the night, I summoned the cartoon ants to bring me the good stuff. Whatever works, right. You count sheep. I give tasks to my ants.

Something worked. Saturday I saw Dr. Francisco, had an X-Ray. "Beautiful." He snipped and plucked out my stitches, pronounced me ready to get up and walk. 

Small steps. Short distances. With a walker. Weight on both legs equally. Hip, hip, hooray!

I can walk. No pain. I am ecstatic. Dr. F set firm boundaries. A long list of 'do nots'. But each day I am to walk further, longer. Just walk.

My emotions were all over the map. Woops. Not the ant map. Different map. Overjoyed. Enraptured. Delighted. Elated. Just plain happy. That map.

Perhaps a secret part of me had believed I would never walk again. On two legs the same length. Without pain. I wanted to hug the joy, the surprise, the wonder to myself.

So I asked Ben to keep visitors away from my door. Rumors flew, of course. "What is wrong. Bad news? Poor thing." And such ilk.

I didn't care. I can walk. I will continue to wield the vinegar-bottle-battle against Argentine Ants, but, perhaps, I shall never view Argentine Ants in quite the same way.

Sondra Ashton

HDN: Looking out my back door

January 16, 2020

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