Fly Like a Butterfly, Stung By a Bee, Run Man Run


One Bee Calls 'em All to Feast --> Me

Friday, July 30, 2010, I was stung by two bees simultaneously.  There were several more about to do their darndest to keep me from finishing the section of path I was working.  And they succeeded.

My goodness bee stings hurt.  One still hurt the next morning.  Around mid-night I ran to Rite-Aid and bought about all I could find that said “pain relief”. 

I gave up after a while and took my favorite pain pill.  800 mg of ibuprofen. 

These are yellow jackets that live and nest in the ground, so you have no idea they are there, sharing your land, until you disturb the soil.  Then all hell breaks loose.  They swarm.  They fly in all directions.  They land everywhere on your body.  And if they light long enough you get stung.  I did.

Son Paul repaid an act of valour I performed thirty odd years ago for him.   He was in the woods behind our Flower Hill Home in Kingston, and he came running, screaming bloody hell.  I was in the back yard doing something, there was always something to do there, and I realized what was going on.  I ripped his shirts off and brushed off a bunch of bees.  He was hurt.  Well on Friday, he paid me back.  He checked me out and brushed off the vagrant bees.  Imagine hanging out on my dirty shirt, sweat pouring off and wet as wet can be.  Thank you son.

It is quite something that a little thing like a yellow jacket can hurt a big ‘ole guy like me.  But they can.  Little things matter.

Bob

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