Oh, Bee-have!

Monday, during our near daily Sea World visit, I was stung by a bee. Stung doesn't really quite fit the sensation of burning and piercing that seem to intensify each step I took. To make matters worse, I was dressed in swimsuit attire and happened to be stung in my upper inner thigh. In order to walk, I had to apply serious pressure and limp thereby drawing even more attention to myself. Unfortunately, I didn't have time or desire to explain to all the curious onlookers why I was apparently grabbing my "crotch" (not that I really was grabbing myself there but it looked very much that way). Luckily I had left my double stroller at the top of the grand stairs.

Once kids were shoed, I hobbled over to the customer service station only to discover that unless I wanted to purchase a locker or commemorative towel, they were useless. One girl did happen to ask me if my throat was closing off or if my tongue was swelling while the other girl told me to fetch her a map of the park. I can only imagine what my face looked like. Trying to be polite I listened to the directions to the first aid station located about the same distance it was to my vehicle, in the opposite direction. I placed the map back and tried to make it to the drink concession in hopes of the man taking pity on me and giving me some ice.

Pause. . .I have been stung before. I remember it being unpleasant and itchy, but I think the stinger's location in the muscle of my thigh was the key difference.

The ice help and I was able to walk to my vehicle less obscenely with ice instead of my hand in such a tacky place. May be this was one of the great grandsons of the bees my sister's and I played with as a child. We would pick them off of flowers using leaves as a barrier. Or may be it was a friend of the fire ants that bit my behind last year and finally found a way satisfy that revenge. In any case, I found the whole event quite humorous except for the fact that it still burns and itches like crazy. As much pain I am in, I still feel a bit sad for the poor bee who felt threatened enough to sting me and then go through what appeared to be a painful detachment from his only source of defense.