I ignore the ant bite, at least it distracts from the neck itch. But I almost loose it when that spot under the eye starts twitching. I relax, check my posture and hope the ant bites starts throbbing again.
I take solace in the diseased gash on my face, and the brown recluse crawling up my leg, and the blazing pulse burning my foot to cinders.
At some point I break. A flare of angst and agony and motion I look down and kick off the spiders and ants and scratch the new welt on my face—and right then my timer goes off.
One shouldn’t gloat or agonize over meditation, or see it as a battle, but—victory!