I stood on a bee. (Not just any ordinary honey bee, an African killer bee*)
*I’m trying to make this story sound more dramatic than it really was.
Barefoot and almost naked, I had just come to the conclusion that frying up bacon in my boxer shorts wasn’t the greatest idea in the world (after getting bacon fat spattered in the general direction of my nipples). I had just stepped over to don my Nelson Mandela apron when I stood on the errant bee. If only I still had hobbit feet.
There was the perfunctory utterance of profanity and then I shouted for my wife (as one does) who expertly tweezed the sting and associated poison sac from my foot. (While I lay back on the bed and fought the urge to go towards the light)
This is the second bee I’ve stood on recently. Prior to that I’d gone twenty years without any close encounters of the bee kind. The last time I got stung (when I was in junior high) I swelled up like a basketball and they told me I was allergic. In addition to this life altering news they said that I should carry round this vial of blue pills (unfortunately not the matrix kind) with me at all times, which would hopefully allay my demise. I don’t think epi-pens were a thing back then yet. I lost the vial shortly thereafter… but I have been telling everyone since then (from the dietitian to the anesthetist) that I am allergic to bees.
‘As requested we have brought you the corpse of the purple-traitor’
The problem with wondering if you’re going to go into anaphylactic shock is you start stressing about going into anaphylactic shock. Which sounds stupid, but I was fully expecting my throat to close up and choke to death. My blood pressure and heart rate spiked dramatically (a sure sign of things to come I imagined). To cut a harrowing twenty minute story short, I didn’t die. In fact the entire episode was completely self fabricated. Turns out I’m not allergic to bees. Not even slightly, other than in my mind. I think there might be a life lesson in there somewhere. (Like don’t trust doctors*)
*yeah, this is my takeaway.
Sufficed to say this bee sting episode was a lot less traumatic than the previous one. Which was kinda embarrassing. I clocked 5.4km round the track and then 500mtrs in the pool this morning with (almost*) no ill effects.
* other than to my pride. I was lapped round the track by a guy with a serious impediment. His right foot was almost at a right angle to his left foot, which looks really awkward and you might suppose he wouldn’t be able to bring the pace… but there he was. In my defense I had a bee sting!
Tomorrow I will train harder.