A Tragedy of Black Carpet Beetle

Today, out of nowhere, my mind wandered back to a bizarre experience I had when I returned to Taiwan after a nine-month break. I’d come back to start my PhD and reunite with my husband, who had been waiting alone in Taiwan because my visa expired, and job hunting had been impossible. After quarantine, I finally got my new ARC, and my friend Resa invited me to have lunch at a warung bakso in Ximen. It sounded like the perfect way to ease back into Taiwan life—until things took a surreal turn.

We hopped on the bus, chatting away, and just as we neared Ximen, I felt a strange tickling sensation in my ear. At first, I thought it was just my imagination, but suddenly, something small and frantic moved deeper into my ear canal. It was like a miniature horror movie happening in real-time—I could feel it crawling, its tiny legs scratching inside my ear. I tried to reach it, to shake it loose, but the pain was overwhelming, and I could only scream. Resa’s face went white as she tried to calm me, shining my phone's flashlight into my ear, and then, horror of horrors, it was bleeding.

We panicked and rushed to the nearest hospital, only to find that the emergency room was closed. I mean, who’s ever heard of a closed ER? The desperation kicked in, and we headed to Taipei Hospital. But this was 2022, when COVID protocols were still strict. Instead of rushing me into care, I had to take a rapid test, queue up, and wait for my turn, all while I could feel this little invader in my ear. So, we decided to find another hospital.

We tried one last option: NTU Hospital. By then, I was a bundle of anxiety and pain, and my heart was pounding so hard the nurses even suggested an EKG. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they started examining my ear. The doctors looked, poked, applied eardrops, and then, in an almost philosophical tone, asked me, “What kind of insect is it?” I stared back, speechless. How could I possibly know? The doctors couldn't find a thing but still handed me a bill for 3,000 NTD—an eye-watering amount without insurance. Thankfully, Resa helped me cover the hospital fees. The doctors advised me to return in three days for a follow-up, but I decided I’d rather go to a clinic closer to home.

Three days later, with my ear still throbbing, I visited an ENT clinic near my place. The doctor was casual, almost indifferent, as he listened to my story about NTU’s endless tests and the “mystery bug.” Then he leaned in, switched on his ear tool, and pointed to the screen with a smirk. “See that little black spot? That’s your intruder.”

I felt a jolt of shock. The bug was on the screen, a small dark shape wedged stubbornly in my ear for three whole days! The doctor chuckled, removed it swiftly, and handed me a prescription. The total cost? Just 500 NTD.

To this day, I can’t shake the thought that this bug managed to evade one of Taiwan’s best hospitals, hiding out in my ear like it was on some kind of twisted vacation. It’s a story I never expected to tell, a little mystery that I paid dearly for but that gave me a laugh (eventually) and a very unusual souvenir from my return to Taiwan.