Parasite cleansing with snake oil

In the dead heat of Tucson August, I decided to do a parasite cleanse because it seemed like an interesting indoor activity, and I was trying to clear up a lingering case of perioral dermatitis.

PD is a rash that affects the skin around the eyes, nose, and mouth. After dealing with acne for half my life, I know that skin issues take a TOLL on my mental health. So, I scheduled a telehealth appointment with a dermatologist, who prescribed a topical cream and oral antibiotics—which I’d have to take for up to six months.

The cream wasn’t working on its own, and nuking my gut in the middle of a pandemic seemed like a poor choice, especially for aesthetic reasons. So, I did some googles and found an article that captured my desperate, willing-to-try-anything energy. The first recommendation was a $70 herbal parasite cleanse.

“Parasite cleanse” was a compelling option because PD wasn’t my only concern. I visited Mexico City in late 2018 and ate a lot of street food. Dorilocos overflowing with raw-dog red onions and handfuls of pork rinds. Raspados full of fresh fruit. Tlacoyos with nopales and cheese. It was delicious and perfectly safe for locals and folks with a healthy gut. But my gut is a sad, stark place, and my digestion hasn’t been the same since that trip.

Before we get deeper into my literal shit, I want to stress that I have an English degree from a state college in Texas! My idea of research is following a gut influencer on Instagram, scrolling Amazon reviews, and seeing what content vibes with my intentions. However, I do understand that correlation does not equal causation, meaning my entire experience can be explained by placebo effect or just related to something other than parasite cleansing. I’m not a rigorous person, and I didn’t think very hard about any of this.

That’s why, after minutes of looking at pictures of shit-covered worms splayed across squares of toilet paper, I was ready to dive in. On Thursday morning, I ordered 20 days of herbs for $25. And on Thursday evening, I learned that the kitten I was planning to adopt that weekend needed to stay with her foster mom for an extra week because ... she had worms.

This was a divine reminder that parasites are common: We accept without judgement that pets get them, and pets lick people—sometimes on the mouth. Many cultures participate in deworming or cleansing regularly using castor oil, herbs, or other tinctures. So it’s not insane to think that Americans can get them too, especially while traveling and by consuming food like sushi, rare meat, and raw fruits and veggies.

If I sound defensive, it’s because I am! Here’s why: I received my pills on Saturday morning and was scheduled to go to the pool with my boyfriend’s coworkers later that day. Despite having no clue how they’d affect me, I popped the first one. “Let’s fucking go,” I told my intestines.

When I got to the pool, I felt kinda weird but chalked it up to hunger and slammed two beers, a burger, and half of a family-sized bag of chips. I felt bad lol—like super bloated but not gassy—and decided to skip dose #2. I took dose #3 before dinner and felt nothing.

For the next four days, I didn’t notice any changes. But on day 5, I had a nice smooth elimination and glanced into the bowl on the way to flush. There, sticking straight out of my turd, was something that looked vaguely worm-like. “Hm,” I thought.

Before starting this project, I promised myself that I would preserve my humanity by not digging through my own shit. Instead of doing that, I grabbed a pair of pastel purple Tweezermans from the medicine cabinet and extracted it in one swift gesture. Disgusting!!!!

The corpse was about 1.5 inches long and clearly a female whipworm. I snapped a few photos and sent one to my sisters and boyfriend without their consent. “Look at that sucker,” I said proudly. With my coworkers, I was more considerate. “DM me if you want to see a photo,” I typed into Slack. Only one person took me up.

From day 5 through day 20, it wasn’t #WormWatch—it was #WormCity babyyyyy. I passed more whipworms, bright red things that looked like liver flukes, and some meaty chunks that looked like segments of something bigger. Horrifying!!!

I skipped taking the herbs on three non-consecutive days because I was constipated, and the idea of dead worms rotting inside me with no way out was panic-inducing. I ended up taking “lower bowel support” herbs and magnesium gummies to help get things moving—magnesium citrate is proven to pull water into the guts, but I’m 99% sure the herbs were snake oil.

The experience was interesting, but I felt pretty depressed and anxious throughout. I dreamed of snakes and woke up sweaty. I spent hours online and discovered MLMs that exploit female anxiety about being unclean by peddling five figure herbal protocols. “Maybe I should heal myself by spending $1,000 on mushroom coffee,” I thought more than once.

I pulled myself out of the slump by remembering that I’m totally fine, with or without worms. My PD healed before I even started the parasite cleanse by switching to a toothpaste without sodium lauryl sulfate. And I’ve chosen not to go to a Worm Doctor for the same reason: I don’t have any symptoms, and my testimonial is more likely to get me a pscyh eval than anything else.