Trick To Stop Mosquito Bite From Itching

Q: I’ve always been prone to attracting mosquitoes, but I only recently learned about the “hot spoon” remedy for relieving the itch from mosquito bites. When the bite is still fresh, you heat a spoon in a glass of hot water or coffee, then apply the back of the spoon directly to the bite. The heat from the spoon seems to neutralize the bite, significantly reducing both the intensity and duration of the itching. I’ve found this to be a lifesaver over the past couple of summers!

A: People’s attraction to mosquitoes can vary widely, and so can their reactions to mosquito bites. For those who tend to attract mosquitoes more than others, it’s a good idea to use insect repellent whenever you go outside.

Most people experience some redness, itching, and possibly a small bump at the site of a mosquito bite. This reaction is thought to be triggered by the saliva of the mosquito, which causes a release of histamine in the skin. In some individuals, however, mosquito bites can cause a much more intense reaction that lasts for weeks, a condition known as “skeeter syndrome.”

The “hot water” remedy for itching was first described over 50 years ago in the textbook Dermatology: Diagnosis and Treatment. This method works by desensitizing the skin’s nerve endings that transmit the itch sensation. The hot spoon technique is believed to work in a similar way. Just be sure the spoon and water are not hot enough to burn your skin.

Today, more advanced versions of this technique are available in the form of battery-powered devices like Therapik, Bite Away, and Bite Helper. These gadgets apply targeted heat to insect bites, providing relief in much the same way as the hot spoon method.

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The mute six-year-old girl ran straight into the giant biker\\\’s arms at Walmart, frantically signing something while tears poured down her face. I watched this massive, tattooed man in a Demons MC vest suddenly start signing back to her fluently, his hands moving with surprising grace as other shoppers backed away in fear. The little girl – couldn\\\’t weigh more than forty pounds – was clinging to this scary-looking biker like he was her lifeline, her small hands flying through signs I couldn\\\’t understand. Then the biker\\\’s expression changed from concern to pure rage, and he stood up, scanning the store with eyes that promised violence, still holding the child protectively against his chest. \\\”Who brought this child here?\\\” he roared, his voice echoing through the aisles. \\\”WHERE ARE HER PARENTS?\\\” The girl tugged on his vest, signing frantically again. He looked down at her, signed something back, and his face went darker than I\\\’d ever seen a human face go. That\\\’s when I realized this little girl hadn\\\’t run to him randomly. She\\\’d seen his vest, seen the patches, and knew something about this biker that nobody else in that store could have guessed. Something that was about to expose the real reason she was desperately seeking help from the scariest-looking person in sight. I was frozen, watching this scene unfold. The biker – easily 6\\\’5\\\”, 280 pounds, arms like tree trunks – was somehow having a full conversation in sign language with this tiny child. \\\”Call 911,\\\” he said to me, not asking. \\\”Now. Tell them we have a kidnapped child at the Walmart on Henderson.\\\” \\\”How do you know—\\\” \\\”CALL!\\\” he barked, then immediately softened his voice and signed something to the girl that made her nod vigorously. I fumbled for my phone while the biker carried the child to customer service, his brothers from the MC – four more leather-clad giants – forming a protective wall around them. The girl kept signing, her story pouring out through her hands. The biker translated for the gathering crowd and the store manager. \\\”Her name is Lucy. She\\\’s deaf. She was taken from her school in Portland three days ago.\\\” His voice was steady but I could hear the barely controlled fury. \\\”The people who took her don\\\’t know she can read lips. She heard them negotiating her sale in the parking lot. Fifty thousand dollars. To someone they\\\’re meeting here in an hour.\\\” My blood went cold. The manager went pale. \\\”How does she know to come to you?\\\” someone asked. \\\”Because I\\\’m…… (continue reading in the C0MMENT)

The mute six-year-old girl ran straight into the giant biker’s arms at Walmart, frantically signing something while tears poured down her face. I watched this massive, tattooed…