Beating Scalp Lice Scourge Requires Community Effort
I stood in line at the grocery store, trying desperately not to look around and see who was looking at me.
Hoping beyond hope that no one I knew would be there. My little girl stood at my side and whispered, “I’m sorry, Mommy.”
With protectiveness born of a mama bear, I put my arm around her and said, “It isn’t your fault.” I would not let her see how ashamed I felt as I handed the cashier the boxes of Rid shampoo. I had never thought I’d be buying this product that carries such a social stigma.
Yes, head lice - blood sucking bugs that have been around since who knows when - had come to our house, at last. I thought perhaps we had beat the odds. She was now in fifth grade. I couldn’t remember how many times since she was in day care and on up through each year of school, I would hear the warning: “Check your child. She has been exposed to lice.” And I did, with shaking hands, hoping beyond hope not to see the creepy, crawly bugs that would be swarming in amongst her hair roots. Biting at her delicate white scalp. Thank goodness, I never saw any. I would breathe a sigh of relief and continue with whatever I had been doing.
Until this winter. It was afternoon and school was out. The kids came spilling out the doors, excited to be going home. I waited for the smiling face with the bouncing ponytails to appear from the open doors. She came up to me with a sadness and whispered, “Mommy, I found a bug in my hair.”
I felt my breath catch and the wheels spin in my head. What to do? I’ve got to treat it, now, this minute. What do they look like? I had never in my 41 years seen one. Little did I know the power of tiny bugs to make me shrink with revulsion and actually make my skin crawl with horror.
It’s quite a procedure, if you aren’t familiar with it. Shampoo has to be spread on dry hair, totally saturating it. Set the timer for 10 minutes. Watch them die as they run for the top of the hair shafts. (Die, you little bastards, I thought silently.) Then rinse and saturate the wet hair with special gel so the fine-toothed combs could be pulled through the hair. The nits, the eggs had to be removed. Her incredibly thick hair had to be pulled and separated into several strands. And slowly, comb through each and every one of them. The eggs grow near the scalp. Miss one and you’ve got a new crop growing for the next week’s onslaught.
It took three hours. And I am so thankful she sat with her back to me so she couldn’t see my face. For I surely must have shown how sickened I was seeing the bite marks on her scalp and pulling the dead bugs off the blue comb.
Head lice know no social standing. They are not reserved for transients who walk the train tracks, not reserved for the moms who leave food-encrusted plates and sweaty socks on the living room couch. My house is clean. The carpet is vacuumed every day, cobwebs are swept, the laundry is done. Vanilla candles burn and everything is in its place. Showers are taken every day. The dogs have never had fleas in their entire lives. I had to find the source. Where did she get them? I began calling parents of my little girl’s playmates. I reached one mom and told her to check for lice. She reacted with the expected horror. When I called the second set of parents, the dad reacted with complete nonchalance. “Oh, yeah.” Red flags waved across my mind. What kind of reaction was that? Two days later, I would see the mom of this little girl with the dancing eyes. When asked if she got the message I had left with her husband, she said, “Yes, she has had head lice for the last year. Can’t seem to get rid of them. I pick them off when I see them.”
Pick them off! You can’t just pick them off!
We did the second treatment seven days later. More lice had hatched. On the second week, I was urged to tell the school by relatives and friends. I didn’t want other kids to tease my little girl’s friend. I felt guilty. And then I realized you have to speak up. You cannot let your shame or fear keep you from notifying. Twenty-five other innocent kids in that classroom were being exposed. I gathered my courage and went to school.
They gave me a pamphlet loaded with information. I wish they could pass it out to each and every child to take home. It was compiled by the Group Health Cooperative. But the schools don’t have the money to make the hundreds of copies necessary. How sad. Spokane County is having an epidemic of head lice. It is being spread and re-spread across our classrooms and into our homes.
Forewarned with knowledge, perhaps we could get a grip on these bugs.
They need to be treated. Not once but twice within seven days. The adults can hold their breath for 24 hours. The females lay about five eggs every day. They live up to 30 days. They eat five blood meals a day. The eggs are glued to the hairshaft. They must be combed out. If you see one, odds are there are hundreds.
Do not use Downy Fabric Softener, Listerine, kerosene, mayonnaise, olive oil or Vaseline. These are not effective, just myths. Dogs and cats cannot get the lice, thank God.
Please, don’t let your children share the same pillow, comb or hat. Tell everyone who has come into contact to check. We are all at risk. No matter how clean your house is or how much money you make, you have what the lice need - human blood - and they will find it.
This experience has shamed me to share our embarrassment. I have had to listen to cries from my child as I combed and combed. This I write for all to know: Head lice aren’t going to leave our world. We could very well be threatened again by their ghastly presence. But now I have knowledge and am forearmed.
Parents, treat your kids. They cannot care for this on their own. And treat it correctly.