If you find a tick inside your home, here’s what you need to know

Nature is the home to an incredibly versatile array of species, but ticks are definitely one of those that we tend to avoid at all costs.

These tiny arachnids, that are related to spiders, mites, and scorpions, are in fact parasites that survive by attaching themselves to larger animals and feeding on their blood. Humans aren’t spared either. Sadly, these insects carry harmful bacteria that can spread disease to people.

Sadly, tick-borne diseases are at an all-time high, with about 50,000 cases reported each year, and far more going unreported.

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There are different types of ticks, and unfortunately, they sometimes find their way to people’s homes. The types most commonly found in homes are the black-legged tick, the dog tick, and the brown dog tick.

  • Black-legged Ticks – known as deer ticks, these ticks are typically brown or black in color and have a flattened, oval-shaped body. They are commonly found in wooded areas and can transmit Lyme disease.
  • Dog Ticks are larger and can range in color from brown to reddish-brown. They have a tough, shield-shaped body. Dog ticks can transmit diseases such as Rocky Mountain spotted fever.
  • Brown Dog Ticks are brown in color and have a slender body.

Although the tick season is between March and October, or sometimes longer, we should be wary of this insects all year round. In fact,if beaten by a tick, a person can develop symptoms even after two or three months.

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The bite itself isn’t painful and can cause swelling, itchiness, blistering, and bruising. The bad thing is that ticks also carry and transmit severe diseases, most commonly Lyme disease, as well as Rocky Mountain spotted fever, ehrlichiosis, and babesiosis.

Initially, Lyme disease develops as a circular red ‘bull’s eye’ rash around the site of a tick bite. However, not everyone gets a rash and you should also watch out for a flu-like illness with fever, headache, tiredness and general aches and pains.

The best way to prevent being bitten by a tick is to avoid tall grasses and areas where ticks thrive (such as moorlands and woodlands), especially during the warmer months.

In case you do get bitten, you should remove the tick as soon as possible in order to prevent infections.

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These are some of the ways of safe removal.

  1. Use fine-tipped tweezers: Use clean, fine-tipped tweezers to grasp the tick as close to the skin as possible.
  2. Pull gently: Apply steady upward pressure, being careful not to squeeze or crush the tick. Aim to remove the tick in one smooth motion without twisting or jerking. Twisting or jerking can cause the tick’s head to break off and stay inside the skin, where it can still transmit disease.
  3. Clean the area: After removing the tick, clean the affected area with soap and water or an antiseptic solution. Monitor the site of the bite for any signs of infection or a rash, and consult a healthcare professional if necessary.
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If by any chance ticks find their way into your home, take immediate action in order to prevent infestation. Most times, ticks are brought into your home in case they stick on your clothes or onto your pets.

  1. Isolate the area: If you have identified the presence of ticks in a specific area, keep pets and children away from that space.
  2. Wear protective gear: Put on gloves and a long-sleeved shirt to protect yourself from potential tick bites.
  3. Clean the area: Clean the area where you found the tick. If it is in bedding, wash the sheets. Inspect the area to ensure there are no more ticks that are present. Dispose of the tick by either flushing it down the toilet or sealing it in a container or ziplock bag before placing it in the trash.

A POOR BOY SAVED A RICH MAN’S LIFE—THE NEXT DAY, HE AND HIS ILL MOTHER FOUND A BAG SENT BY THAT SAME MAN ON THEIR PORCH.

The dust of the country road swirled around Martin’s worn sandals as he trudged home, his stomach growling with the familiar pangs of hunger. He was a wisp of a boy, barely ten years old, with eyes that held the weight of too many hardships. His mother, frail and perpetually ill, relied on him for everything, from gathering firewood to earning meager coins from odd jobs.

As he rounded a bend, a sleek, black automobile roared past, kicking up a cloud of dust that stung his eyes. He coughed, waving his hand to clear the air, and then noticed the car had stopped further down the road. It was angled awkwardly, half on the pavement, half in the ditch. A figure slumped inside.

Curiosity piqued, Martin ran towards the car. Inside, a man, dressed in fine clothes, was choking, his face turning an alarming shade of purple. He was clutching his throat, his eyes wide with panic. Martin recognized him; it was Sylvester Thorne, the wealthy landowner whose grand estate loomed over their humble village.

Without hesitation, Martin grabbed a rock from the roadside and smashed the car window. Glass shattered everywhere as he reached in to unlock the door. “Stand back!” he shouted, pulling Sylvester out onto the pavement.

Sylvester was gasping, his hands still clutching his throat. Martin knew he had to act quickly. He remembered a trick he’d seen his father use once, a desperate measure. With all his might, Martin delivered several sharp blows to Sylvester’s back. Suddenly, a chunk of apple flew from Sylvester’s mouth, and he gasped for air, his lungs finally filling with air.

The rich man looked at the boy with tears in his eyes and kept thanking him for saving his life, his voice hoarse. “You… you saved my life, boy. I… I owe you everything.”

Martin, flustered by the man’s gratitude, simply nodded. “Just glad you’re alright, sir.” And then, he turned and walked away, his stomach still growling, his mind already turning to the task of finding something for his mother to eat.

The next morning, Martin was jolted awake by his sister, Lily’s, excited screams. “Marty! Marty! Come quick!”

He rushed outside, his mother calling after them in confusion, her voice weak but laced with concern. There, on their doorstep, sat a large, brown bag. It was tied with a silken ribbon, a stark contrast to the rough, worn wood of their porch.

Lily, her eyes wide with wonder, tugged at the ribbon. Martin cautiously untied it, and the contents spilled out: a loaf of fresh bread, a basket of plump, red apples, a jar of honey, and a small pouch filled with coins. At the bottom of the bag, a folded note lay nestled amongst the food.

Martin unfolded it, his eyes scanning the elegant script. “To Martin, for your bravery and kindness. From Sylvester Thorne.”

His mother, her face etched with a mixture of relief and astonishment, reached for the bread, her fingers trembling. “It’s from Mr. Thorne,” Martin said, his voice hushed. “He remembered.”

The food was a godsend. They hadn’t had a proper meal in days. The coins, though few, were enough to buy medicine for his mother and some seeds for their small garden. But it was more than just the material goods. It was the knowledge that someone, especially someone as powerful as Sylvester Thorne, had seen their plight and cared.

News of Martin’s heroism spread through the village like wildfire. People who had once turned a blind eye to their poverty now offered smiles and words of encouragement. Even the gruff baker, who had always refused them credit, gave them a warm loaf of bread and a wink.

Sylvester Thorne, true to his word, didn’t forget Martin. He visited their small cottage, his presence filling the cramped space with an air of grandeur. He spoke to Martin’s mother, his voice gentle and respectful. He offered to pay for her medical treatment and to send Martin to school.

Martin, overwhelmed by the man’s generosity, looked at his mother, her eyes shining with hope. She nodded, her lips forming a silent “yes.”

Life changed for Martin and his family. His mother’s health improved, and he excelled in school, his sharp mind eager to learn. He never forgot the day he saved Sylvester Thorne, nor the kindness that followed. He understood that even in the midst of hardship, a single act of courage and compassion could change everything. And Sylvester Thorne, in return, learned that true wealth wasn’t measured in possessions, but in the lives he touched and the gratitude he received.

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