First, if I have ever shrugged anyone off when being told about a bee sting, I apologize. Even if I don't know you, if you were stung and you told your friend and that person seemed uninterested, I apologize for your friend.
Why? Because I was stung today, more than once, and it hurt. A lot.
Pause and rewind.
I haven't suffered a sting from a bee, wasp, or other insect for a long, long time. In fact, the last sting I distinctly remember was from a jellyfish, and I remember that because it induced a fever and I was laid up for a day. I think I was 14 at the time.
I'm a bit older now.
Now. Present tense. I'm visiting my older brother in North Carolina, in Durham, which is the home of Duke university--and, not surprisingly, also the location of Duke forest (though they are cutting down chunks of it)--a wonderful place, I am sure.
I'm sure that most of the Duke forest areas are also wonderful (except for the chunks that have been cut down).
However, (you knew that was coming, right? The "however" bit?) when we went for a walk today with my brother's 2 dogs (more on that species in a moment) there was a problem.
An unfortunate incident.
An experience I would rather not repeat.
We veered off the main path onto a smaller path--more of a trail--and, not more than 20 feet into the woods, I felt a sudden, sharp sting in the heel of my right palm. I thought I had hit my hand on a thorny bush, possible since we were moving through brushy undergrowth.
Wrong. That was actually sting #1, though I didn't know it immediately.
I did know, quite quickly, that it couldn't have been a thorn, because--in the second or so that it took to process the thought--the pain was not that of an in-and-out wound that a thorn or spike or plant needle would deliver.
No, it was an intense pain, and it didn't go away. I looked down at my palm, and, as I did so, I saw a brief flash of yellow and black against the dark blue of my t-shirt.
That was sting #2.
I let out a yell to warn my brother, and, as he saw an insect or two flying around, we hustled back onto the main trail. In the process, he got stung too. (Though, looking back, I wouldn't wish a sting on anyone, it is nice to have another person to share the pain with.)
Back on the main trail we both blew a sigh of relief (between pain-filled curses), and I let my guard down.
That was sting #3.
One hornet (that's what we think they were) sting was enough; three was cruel.
Now, back to the dogs. Man's best friend and all that. Dogs with nice thick coats. You'd think they could have--should have--thrown themselves in front of the rampaging hornets and thereby saved their loving masters from great bodily harm. You'd think canine loyalty might stimulate such an action.
Nope. They could've cared less.
Betrayal is a bitter pill to swallow. Especially with hornet poison coursing through your body.
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