When I was a child I had an irrational fear of bees. We went to Niagara Falls when I was 8 years old and in many of the photos my face is either hidden or tear-stained because there were bees everywhere. I’m not allergic to bees, I was just afraid of their painful stings. Since then I’ve learned to just ignore bees and have switched my irrational fears to mice in the kitchen, but this afternoon my childhood fear was validated: bee stings freaking hurt!
We were walking home from lunch on a side street near Primrose Hill — the same place I got pooed on by a bird months ago — when I felt this sharp pain in my side.
It was a foreign feeling and for a split second I thought my appendix had burst, but it felt more like a sting. Puzzled, I stopped, clutched my side, and found a bee tangled in my sweater. It had stung me through my sweater (“jumper”) and dress. I made Stephen swat it off then yelped in pain the rest of the five-minute walk home. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been stung by a bee, and in my head I imagined it to be like a mosquito bite — a minor itchy inconvenience (unless you’re Stephen and it swells up into a giant knob on your head). But man, this sting hurt! There wasn’t even a stinger to remove, yet I could feel the poison spreading. I washed the wound, iced it and applied hydrocortisone, but even hours later I still feel a slight sting (no pun intended).
I now have a whole new appreciation for crazy Fear Factor people like this: