Yesterday, while weeding in the front flower bed, I was stung by a bee.I had noticed this bumblebee hovering around, but I was hoping that if I just ignored it, he'd go away. Instead, he started to climb up my shorts. I found this situation unacceptable. I swatted at my shorts, desperate to get rid of him before I got stung in an unmentionable place. Instead, he stung me just under the nail on my middle finger, which I find infinitely preferable to the alternatives.
Especially since it's meant that, over the past 24 hours, I've often eagerly held up my two middle fingers to Keith for comparison, saying, "Doesn't it look swollen?" And then I giggle.
But I also think it's strange that, after the initial pain and annoyance, I'm fascinated by the fact that I was stung by a bee. I haven't been stung since I was a kid--if I've ever been stung at all. This is all new to me.
I started observing my own symptoms. The immediately affected area turns red and swells? Fascinating! And, of course, I started looking up information online. Did you know that, according to a WebMD article, there's no antidote to bee venom? You can only treat your symptoms--antihistamines for itching, ibuprofen for pain, and ice for the swelling. Very interesting!
Today my finger is still red and swollen, although not as bad as yesterday. I think it's safe to say I won't be having a major allergic reaction. But that won't stop me from holding up my fingers to Keith when he gets home tonight and asking how they look. Then giggling.
1 comment:
Were you there the summer I was stung by a yellow jacket at the Rocky River office? Or was that our other intern? I swore so loud that it may have been heard in Sr. Rose's office. Anyway, it was the first time I ever got stung so I didn't know if I'd be allergic. I also went to WebMD, but rather than being fascinated, I assumed I would swell up and die.
I wish it was my middle finger and not my thigh. How cool to flip everyone off with a beesting. I just hiked up my skirt a lot.
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