A Fantastic Fear of Bees

They’re everywhere. There is no escape. Everywhere I turn, one appears, waiting for me to let my guard down so it can inject its poison into my flesh.

I got stung yesterday. Stung by a bee. Actually, it was 3 bees, all at once. I was mowing my neighbor’s lawn when all of a sudden I felt the awful feeling of a bee stinging my ankle. Whenever I feel myself get stung I start shaking my body in a sort of violent dance as an effort to get the bee off of me. After this shaking, I simply run away. I’m sure it looks very comical to anybody who happens to glance my way. Yesterday, upon feeling the sharp pain of a bee sting, I did the bee sting dance and ran away, same as I had dozens of times before (is being stung a dozen times in 16 years normal or do bees just like pissing me off?).

After cowering in my garage for a few minutes, cursing the existence of bees, I returned to where I had left the mower. I continued mowing but didn’t quite feel right. I felt a headache coming on so I decided to try to work faster. Eventually this headache turned into a horrible pounding in my head. This horrible pounding in my head was coupled with a feeling of light-headedness and a sudden feeling of warmth all over my body (it was a hot flash but I didn’t want to say hot flash because it would sound like I was a menopausal woman).

I was fairly certain I was going to die. I managed to find the strength to finish mowing the lawn and began the short walk to my house. The short walk felt like it took hours. I imagine that I looked zombie-like, shuffling along with a pained look on my face. I was beginning to feel what I can only describe as a pressure in my chest, causing breathing to become slightly difficult.

Upon reaching my house, I burst through the door and announced to my mother that I was just stung by three bee and that I was fairly certain I was going to die. My mother told me to grab an icepack and lie down (with a lot less concern than I had hoped for). I grabbed an icepack and retired myself to the couch. She brought me a bottle of water and some Benadryl (cherry flavored, the second worst flavor of medicine, after grape). I drank the Benadryl without vomiting it all up and attempted to take a nap.

I have never been tested for a bee allergy. I have never had any reason to. I’ve been stung many times and never had anything remotely close to what happened yesterday occur. Maybe I imagined all of the symptoms. Maybe if I go in for a allergy diagnosis, all I will get is a psychological diagnosis for hypochondriasis (look it up if you don’t know what it means).

Today I woke up knowing that I had more lawns to mow (my dad makes me mow about 10 lawns in total). The afflicted area (my ankle) felt very itchy, but fine. My head felt fine. I decided that I was fine and started my day. I took our family’s golf cart and drove it to my great-grandma’s house (yes, many people in my town drive golf carts around. It’s not that weird, and it saves gas and ultimately the environment). I started up the mower and began to HOLY SHIT! There were bees everywhere. It was a hot day and the bees were out to play. Last night, I had entered my symptoms into google and found that it was possible that I was allergic to bee stings and that the next sting could be worse (never look up your symptoms online. If you do you will convince yourself you have the bubonic plague or Ebola when really all you have is a cold). I debated not mowing my sweet, old, fragile great grandmas lawn. After deliberating for a few minutes, I decided I should power through and mow the lawn. I saw many bees, but these bees motivated me to move faster (translation: I was running from the bees the whole time which made me mow fast). I finished mowing that lawn in record time. Unfortunately, I had another lawn to mow. Oh boy.

The second lawn I was tasked with mowing was the lawn of a very important building in our town, the Heritage Center. I had to make sure it looked nice. But, to my horror, what should appear? A bee? Hell, I wish it were a bee. It was a black hornet. I had never encountered a hornet in the wild, buy my instincts told me that this wasn’t a good situation. I watched the hornet fly around, basically pissing myself. Suddenly, it flew right at me. I hope nobody saw what I did next. I screamed and dropped to the ground.

After a full minute of lying on the ground in a very public place, I decided that the hornet was gone and that I should get up. I opened my eyes and exhaled a sigh of relief. I had survived. The Heritage Center has a fairly small lawn that I finished with great ease.

I drove the golf cart back home and entered my house. An oasis, a paradise that didn’t harbor a single bee/wasp/hornet/any other horrifying insect with wings and a stinger. Or so I thought.

I walked down the stairs to my room. Upon entering my room, I was greeted by the unmistakable sound of a bee: buzz. I slammed the door shut and thought up a game plan. I grabbed the newspaper (it was a boring edition since I wasn’t in it this week) and prepared for a fight. Wielding the newspaper in my hands I opened the door and gave a battle cry. This was war.

The poor bee didn’t even stand a chance. I was on him instantly. I gave one swift, powerful swing of my mighty rolled-up newspaper. The buzzing stopped. The war was over. I could retire to my room in peace.

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