Somewhere around this time last year I was given a frightening wake-up call to the dangers of the browntail moth.

Going to bed with a minor sore throat, I awoke during the night barely able to swallow without choking. Each breath focused on overcoming the increasing panic of impending strangulation. On the way to Midcoast Hospital I truly feared for my life as my airway continued to close. In the ER an intravenous antihistamine was administered while anti-beta blockers counteracted a medication thought causing the severe swelling of my up to then unacknowledged uvula. Thanks to timely medical intervention, in the wee hours of what was a clearly overwhelmed emergency shift, I live to tell the tale.

In a follow-up evaluation, my primary care provider’s first question was if I might’ve been exposed to the Browntail caterpillar. The answer was yes, very likely, and today I’m still taking that originally suspected medication. Luckily, I’d received correct treatment when presenting crisis symptoms, on the fly, to a hurried attending physician. Even though the more exotic cause was overlooked, all bases had been covered. That’s why medicine’s called a practiced art rather than an exact science. It’s often reliant on improv and flying by the seat of one’s best informed pants while still succeeding in managing to hit the ball out of the park.

Being blindsided by one’s own mortality is always a dramatic way of reassessing one’s priorities. I now take Maine’s browntail infestation, most prominent right here in our immediate Midcoast area, as a totally justified motivation for what might offhand be seen as an alarmist public safety concern. My alarming inhalation of a single caterpillar hair was most likely the result of browntail habitation just off my household’s much enjoyed deck.

As recommended, I now wear a dust mask when mowing the lawn anywhere in my yard, but especially near the deck. A long-sleeved shirt, pants rather than shorts, and a wide brimmed hat have already long been adopted when doing yard work, due to ongoing warnings regarding sun exposure and the ever increasing menace of deer ticks. This is the new reality that climate change has wrought. Invasive species, never seemingly beneficial, and a thinning of what once was the natural protection of the upper ozone layer are now permanent why-did-we-go-down-that-road consequences of our continued mindless addiction to the carbon emitting fossil fuel mobility that still drives our economy. Clean air and water are truly priceless. Harming the environment is wrong. Many of us get that, no problem, but collectively we still have a long ways to go to appreciate the value of that fundamental reality.

After years of relying on sunscreen products to ameliorate exposure to ultraviolet harm we’re now told that those products knowingly misrepresented their claims of protection. During an annual physical exam I was advised to see a dermatologist to evaluate a small persistent spot on my temple which fortunately turned out to be harmless. Sitting in the waiting area was a teaching moment everyone should experience. Here was a roomful of patients with various components of their faces in varying stages of surgical exorcism. I think of that vivid encounter every time I see someone with an accomplished tan, but even more so when I see very young children, supervised by loving parents or grandparents, playing without adequate sun protective clothing.

Since that sobering browntail diagnosis, I’ve been most watchful of any and all evidence of caterpillar activity near my home. This past winter I pruned what few cocoons my trees contained. None could be seen from my property, but a neighbor one block over asked advice on some he discovered in his yard. A tree on BIW’s border with the nearby dog park had the most conspicuous neighborhood infestation, though thought far enough away not to be a worry.

Due to a particularly warm morning sun last week, I took my coffee and reading under the protection of my front porch’s provision of shade. A short time later my arm suddenly displayed raised blotches. Later still, a pronounced itching kicked in. Fortunately, the rash was confined to just one arm. Fortunately, that browntail hair wasn’t inhaled.

Perhaps that hair was from the previous year and still toxic. Dr. Google couldn’t rule that out. Likely it was from this season, from some distant source, carried by an innocent breeze to land on my thought to be safely exposed arm, providing another teaching moment about the perilous world we live in even on a stellar summer’s day in Vacationland.

The silver lining to that latest encounter with the browntail threat was to discover that downtown Bath’s Wilson’s Drug Store has its very own pharmaceutical concoction to remedy external exposure to that pesky caterpillar’s very serious toxicity. One look at my arm from the counter person confirmed it was a browntail rash. One application of the lotion ended the itching. Two additional treatments and the rash was hardly noticeable. Unlike last year’s ER visit, the total cost of treatment was less than $20.

Thank goodness I had affordable medical insurance last year.