Ignominious Mites

Thank you, my tiny bastard friends!  Spent the entire day frantically searching for a doctor who wanted to, you know, just for the hell of it, actually treat a patient.  After visits to five, yes FIVE, different doctors during office hours, three could not be bothered to treat us, and the other two did not answer their phones or even show up during their listed office hours.  A friend finally picked us up and dragged us to her pediatrician, who decided the bites weren't fire ants, but mites from the garden that had wafted into the apartment.  My disgustingly lazy landlady who is supposed to provide fresh linens twice per week, but only grudgingly manages it once every two weeks or so, as usual refused to provide the overdue fresh bedding (despite me mentioning that it was Doctor's orders) until I told her I would move out this very second without them.  My poor boy has now been attacked and he has bites and swelling as well.  We've started packing anyway in quest of cleaner habitation.  He's not itchy or in pain like my feet are, but this is still awful.  We have to go for blood work tomorrow to see if anything has invaded our blood streams through the puncture sites.  Mites are evil and repulsive, damn them all.