We won't tell Scott about the Brown Recluse. Some years ago, 93 or 94, after I'd known him a year or so he got bit on the leg by one. He was so upset when the doc told him he'd have to lay up for a week with the leg elevated.
The doc told him he could go ahead and go back to work if he wanted to die or he could lay up for a week with the leg elevated and live. He was not a happy camper.