Deafening Hysteria: When Bugs Take Over

"Honey, I told you that you cannot eat those," I whispered, trying to cajole one of my patients who had this strange fixation on catching insects—and worse, trying to eat them. I held out my hand to retrieve the insect from his hand, but instead, he squashed it until it popped. I sighed and glanced over at my coworker Jake, who was barely suppressing a laugh.

My patient stalked off. "Why didn't you help me?" I teased Jake.

"Oh, come on. Watching him squish that bug didn't exactly break your heart, did it?" he replied with a smile, bumping me lightly. "But seriously, I heard some patients talking, saying there are more bugs around here than usual lately. So maybe this isn't just him being weird." He chuckled.

I cringed at the thought of crawly things in the dirt. "You're kidding me, right?" I said with a nervous laugh. Jake shrugged with a 'who knows' look and went back to his paperwork.

I sighed again and looked around the desk to see what to do next. Mental health work can be fulfilling, but it can definitely test your patience.

One of my patients, Emmett, needed his antipsychotic medication. I grabbed some paperwork for the pharmacy and started my rounds. Passing by rooms where some patients had decided the floor was the most comfortable spot, I chatted with several. Everyone was fine, so the trip to the pharmacy was uneventful.

As I was walking down the hall, there was this loud shriek. I ran towards the sound and found this pile of ants walking over each other on the floor. Oddly enough, they were not walking in a line like ants usually do, and I couldn't tell where they were coming from.

Since I was close to the front desk, I went back. Jake gave me a confused look. I rolled my eyes, grabbed the bug spray, and walked back towards the ant pile. Jake laughed, "Told you."

"It's okay, sweetie," I said kindly as I sprayed the ants. They scurried away and disappeared into the wall—though I did not see any cracks. I sprayed again, just in case, and continued with my day.

I had the medicine in hand; I went to Emmett's room. Emmett's room was right across from Paul's—the bug enthusiast. I caught Jake's smirk and eye roll as I passed by. I sighed, brushing off the thoughts, and knocked gently.

"Hi, sweetie, time for your meds," I whispered. Emmett did not like noise, so I whispered. He took the pills without a fuss. I was going out when I heard yelling from Paul's room.

I hesitated. Paul's tantrums could be anything, and once I'd gone in to find him smeared with his own feces. Nothing could have prepared me for this.

I opened the door, and insects—dozens, maybe hundreds—poured out, hitting me in the face, crawling into my hair, and some dropping down inside my shirt. I screamed, flailing wildly as I tried to brush them off.

Jake appeared, his eyes wide with fear. The screams, the buzz of insects, and the commotion made a din of noise in the hallway.

Jake had pulled the fire alarm in the hope of help. He shouted something to me, but I couldn't hear him over the noise of the alarm and the swarm. I could barely think or breathe as the bugs pounded into me relentlessly.

Some of the patients behind me panicked, running in circles. I caught a woman who was being slowly engulfed by insects; Jake assisted me in pulling her to safety. I attempted to locate additional patients, tracking screams amidst the chaos.

Then, suddenly, the wall beside me burst open. There were thousands of insects that poured out of it and flew straight at me. I was frozen in terror as the swarm covered me. The more I struggled, the more they swarmed, crawling up my nose, ears, and mouth.

My world was bedlam—the buzzing, the shrieking, and the incessant crawling sensation.

Then my arm was grasped, and I fought, falling under the onslaught of the insects. I screamed, thrashing, but soon even my own cries were lost in the tide of insects.

I could not breathe. I could not think. The insects covered me completely, their tiny legs scurrying over my skin, biting through my clothes.

The noise—the terrible, deafening noise—began to fade slowly away.

Perhaps. Perhaps it had all been a dream.

And all I had to do now was wake up.

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