The patient's name is Meredith Ellen Koenig; aged twenty-one female, green eyes, blonde hair.
I was contacted in regards to Ms. Koenig's case by an associate who shall remain nameless. Said associate knew of my skill in dealing with unusual cases and believed that I was better suited to handle her case, which has, apparently, led to many sleepless nights for him.
I find that rather sad. He's a doctor and should know how to confront unusual problems with as much care and intelligence as he would approach a cancer or AIDS sufferer.
But, despite my contempt, I wouldn't pass up this case, not in a million years.
To give a bit more detail, Meredith Koenig is a woman who believes that her body is infested with insects, a form of psychosis more commonly referred to as Delusional Parasitosis. She claims that there are small, biting insects living under certain parts of her skin.
She has taken extreme measures to get them out of her body using knives, needles and tweezers; but this has only resulted in her being sent to the intensive care ward with a great many scars.
This ward, which shall also go unnamed, is the one where my associate works. He was given her case and very quickly found that he was in over his head. Apparently, Ms. Koenig can describe the insects in vivid detail, saying that she's seen them exiting her body just as she's about to sleep.
She says that they are about two inches in length; with sleek, chitinous, winged bodies and heads that resemble small masses of probing tendrils.
She also insists that they can enter painlessly under the skin or through an orifice; she was restrained after trying to claw out her left eye to show my associate the small nest of insects that she believes live in her ocular cavity.
He called me that night and begged me to take the case from him. Describing the incidents in a frantic, teary voice.
At first I was skeptical. I don't usually deal with mental issues, but my associate knows better than to contact me if the issue is mundane. That, and I had the sneaking suspicion that he was lying about what he had seen—or was—at the least, not telling me the whole story; so I decided to have a look at her.
I arrived at the ward at 12:00 sharp and found my associate waiting impatiently for me, worrying his thin lips with those ill-cared-for teeth of his. He told me that Ms. Koenig had tried to insert a stolen scalpel into her navel to dig out one of the insects, and was now out cold with a stomach full of tranquilizers.
I went into her room, not bothering to engage in pointless chit-chat with my associate, and gave her a cursory examination.
As I did this, my associate finally told me that he hadn't told me the whole truth, that he had seen something moving under her eyelid as she was plunging the knife towards her eye.
Taking his words into account, I pried her left eyelid open and used my penlight to have a better look.
There was something moving in the soft meat of her socket. Whatever it was, retreated a few seconds after the light hit it.
I recalled how the cockroaches that lived in bat guano would flee when exposed to light, but would move freely in the dark. So I turned my penlight off, took out my tweezers and waited a minute before turning the light back on.
This time I saw several thin, dark-gray feelers squirming around, weaving in and out of the flesh like living thread. I acted as quickly as I could and, being as careful as I could, I extracted the creature.
There was blood, of course, and Ms. Koenig woke up with a loud scream that made me almost drop the creature that was in her eye. But I secured the creature and left before anyone could catch me.
It's been two days since then, and I have studied the insect to the best of my extent.
It appears as though its body isn't composed of normal organic material, I have no idea what it's made of and it doesn't seem to possess even a rudimentary nervous system or brain. It also seems as though the feelers that make up its head are able to cleanly cut through skin without causing pain.
I had to go through a cat to get that information, but it was worth it.
I also learned that these insects breed quickly, as evidenced by how my cat has chewed most of its fur off. This is a very bad thing, as it means that these insects can most likely transfer from one host to another, and continue the infection.
This cannot be allowed to happen.
Tomorrow I will go back to the ward and collect Ms. Koenig so that I can try to isolate the insects living inside of her. I'm sure that I will have to take some rather extreme measures with her, but she might live through it, though she'll most likely be missing a few parts.
But I think she'll understand. It's for the good of the world. She can think on that when I'm treating her.
A thousand lives for every inch of skin and every severed nerve.
I just hope that she doesn't die on me. My benefactors hate having to explain the losses.