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From the Microcosmicon, 39:

They crawled under his skin, blindly squirming and squelching. He wheezed in agony. How had they gotten in? How had he become their host?

Then he felt the large scar on his wrist. That’s how!
Longing for liberation, he dug his nails into his arm, pulling strings of living matter out of it.

A blade of light. The nurse calmed him, pointing at the blood and tissue he’d scratched out of his body. No parasite.

A week passed.
He felt them, blindly squirming and squelching. How had they gotten in? Then he felt the scar on his wrist. That’s how!

MQS