>weather in Virginia breaks, spend Presidents Day weekend on the Appalachian Trail
>spend the night in a hut, everyone's getting ready to leave the next day
>guy is changing his shirt
>"dude dude dude, hold on"
>right behind his armpit he has two fully engorged ticks, each with the full bullseye around it
>fully disinfect each one, try to tell him he should head down the trail and go to the nearest hospital
>"haha no man, the bullseye doesn't always mean it's lyme"

I spent the next two days completely paranoid, checking every single itch for ticks. Ruined the whole weekend.

How do I stop being so terrified of the little bloodsuckers? The thought that any shrub you touch could give you a debilitating, decade-long disease is horrifying to me.