I’m an animal lover. I root for the underdogs. My favorite bird is the black vulture. I think possums are truly awesome. I pick up spiders in tissues and set them outside. But I have crossed wasps off my friendly list.
The fern on the front porch needed rotating. It was seriously lopsided in the leaf department. So I turned the pot, straightened the fronds, and was attacked by gazillions of nuclear weapon-bearing wasps. The elite force of twenty penetrated my defenses and stung me.
No way was my first thought to hightail it to the emergency room. Come on. One of those little criminals stung me inside my nose!! And hello, six or eight got up my walking shorts. I’ve been there done that with explaining how doing something stupid got me to an Emergency Room. Not again. So I called my husband at work. (Why should I be the only panicked and non-functioning one?)
He came home. I told him not to, but he did. Either he came home to call the life insurance company and hurry up get a policy on me, or to watch over me. Since he’s still on the phone making ‘car repair appointments’ the jury’s out.
So I called the doc. The receptionist who answered clearly has an MD, because she told me what to do. Take liquid Benadryl (we had expired capsules. So I took those. You can see how I’m a dream patient.) and wait. She gave me the list of symptoms which were lots less scary than the ones I found online. (Yeah. I went online before I called Doc Receptionist).
So I’m waiting. My nose and lip are no longer competing for biggest protuberances on my body. The swelling is going down. And I will have to find an alternate route out of the house. Or a bee keeper suit.