That's right. Boyfriend found a bat flying around his kitchen in the middle of the day. He got it out of his house and texted me.
I reacted appropriately, I think.
I furiously googled bat rabies, and was horrified by what I read, which included gems like these:
1. bats are the number one cause of rabies in people
2. bat teeth are very sharp and bites can be undetected by sleeping people
3. rabies is always always fatal and by the time you show symptoms, it's too late and you're gonna die
So I emailed this info to Boyfriend, who promptly disregarded the email and told me that it wasn't in his bedroom, so it was fine. He didn't think to murder or trap the bat to get it tested, so he didn't report it.
I tried to forget about it, and saw him like usual that weekend.
Then, last week, Boyfriend found a bite on his leg. A bite that did not belong to his puppy.
So yes, Boyfriend finally went to the hospital. And got six shots. He got shots for his puppy, too.
He and I have been googling rabies nonstop, and are both a wealth of information on the topic.
(Yes, that sad Scrubs episode with Dr Cox having a breakdown was based on a true case!)
So that's how I became convinced I got rabies too. Even though there's never been a case of rabies through human kissing. Still. I've always felt that I was meant for greatness.
I made Boyfriend ask the doctor during his next visit, and she said she "thinks" that if he didn't have any symptoms, I was fine. TBH, "thinking" something is not the type of language that inspires confidence in me. But Boyfriend is fine. And I'm probably also fine.