Stung By Something
I hate weeds.
My beautiful wife and adoring children don’t seem to mind them, and since it’s rough for me to spend hours taking care of the yard...
...I try and grab a few weeds now and again on my way to and from my car.
I only picked three on Sunday morning.
Something was on the third weed...
...I suspect a bee.
I didn’t see it. I just felt an electric-like shock on the top of my hand.
Now, I’ve been stung by a bee before. No big deal. I know people who swell up and are in real danger when something like that happens.
I rubbed a little dirt on it.
Swore a couple of times.
Shook my hand.
Yet, it started swelling up and my skin was hot to the touch, and I considered that maybe I’d need a Benadryl.
“Was it a wasp, a hornet or a bumble bee?” Kathy asked.
“I didn’t see it.”
“Was it a spider?”
“Same answer.”
And of course, I started doing the “I’m dying rant.”
“Wouldn’t that be just the thing,” I said. “Paralyzed by a bite of a rare insect.”
“You aren’t dying,” Kathy said.
“Aren’t you concerned at all?” I asked. “Look at the swelling. My skin is hot. It itches like hell.”
“You’ll make it.”
My wife, of course, is a nurse.
“Do you have any advice?”
“Ice, Benadryl, first-aid cream.”
So, I worked through it. One step at a time.
Whining all the way.
(Shut up, Pops. This could be serious!)
I’d like to say that 22 hours later it’s no longer an issue...
...but it still is.
Pray for me!
Freaking weeds.
My beautiful wife and adoring children don’t seem to mind them, and since it’s rough for me to spend hours taking care of the yard...
...I try and grab a few weeds now and again on my way to and from my car.
I only picked three on Sunday morning.
Something was on the third weed...
...I suspect a bee.
I didn’t see it. I just felt an electric-like shock on the top of my hand.
Now, I’ve been stung by a bee before. No big deal. I know people who swell up and are in real danger when something like that happens.
I rubbed a little dirt on it.
Swore a couple of times.
Shook my hand.
Yet, it started swelling up and my skin was hot to the touch, and I considered that maybe I’d need a Benadryl.
“Was it a wasp, a hornet or a bumble bee?” Kathy asked.
“I didn’t see it.”
“Was it a spider?”
“Same answer.”
And of course, I started doing the “I’m dying rant.”
“Wouldn’t that be just the thing,” I said. “Paralyzed by a bite of a rare insect.”
“You aren’t dying,” Kathy said.
“Aren’t you concerned at all?” I asked. “Look at the swelling. My skin is hot. It itches like hell.”
“You’ll make it.”
My wife, of course, is a nurse.
“Do you have any advice?”
“Ice, Benadryl, first-aid cream.”
So, I worked through it. One step at a time.
Whining all the way.
(Shut up, Pops. This could be serious!)
I’d like to say that 22 hours later it’s no longer an issue...
...but it still is.
Pray for me!
Freaking weeds.
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