I Magically Develop a Bee Allergy

For some context before we dive into the story, I’m no stranger to cycling through allergies at random intervals with no warning, usually having to find out the hard way that all of the sudden something that was fine for me in the past is a big no-no for me now. As a kid, I was temporarily allergic to bananas, (despite them being my namesake) but I grew out of that one. Then I spontaneously developed a severe allergy to bug spray (deet specifically) when I was like 12 and haven’t been able to touch it since. Then there was the minor and recent incident of becoming lactose intolerant, though I’ve managed to gaslight my body back into accepting dairy with practically no issue since. I also am apparently allergic to an anti-fungal cream called Bryholli, which bleaches my skin into white patches around my elbows. Oh, and there was also the mystery allergy, where I was plagued with bright itchy hives for two days straight and still don’t know the cause.

So, I guess it should come as no surprise that my body regularly likes to betray me in the dumbest ways possible. On to the bee story!

Other small context: my parents were out of town rightfully celebrating their anniversary. I’m sure they did not enjoy my occasional updates of my cool new condition, but they were very nice anyway.

Part 1: The Kamikaze Bee (Kamikazbee?)

I was helping Reese unload some of the stuff from his apartment back into the house (we’re both living here for the summer), when things started getting weird. Henry and Lucy who had been home all day were talking about a weirdly aggressive bee that had been terrorizing them all afternoon, to the point where they stopped going outside. Then, lo and behold, who should show up but that very same bee, flying straight for everyone, completely unprompted.

I had just been walking out the laundry room door and stumbled upon this scene. (Having, you’ll notice, no previous contact with this bee or any reason for it to hate me.) The bee didn’t even hesitate. It just flew straight at my face and stung me right in the bridge of my nose, ripped the stinger from its body, and launched itself into my shirt where it continued to buzz angrily inside.

Reese managed to wrangle me and the bee (who had flown out of my shirt and into my hair, where it was stuck) into the bathroom. After disentangling it from my hair and killing it completely, I got to see the delight that was the bee’s stinger stuck firmly in my nose, still pumping like a heart, delivering more of that good bee venom straight into my face.

It hurt, yeah, but I didn’t think much of it. We scraped the stinger out of my nose, I took some Zyrtec, and we all went about our day annoyed but relatively okay.

Things would be fine. Right?

Part 2: Things Were Not Fine

For the first day, the sting acted pretty much as I expected it to. My nose swelled up a little bit, but aside from a pretty gnarly headache I was fine. I made dinner for everyone and the night went on as normal, though I noticed that the skin under my left eye was starting to feel weirdly spongy…

And then I woke up the next day, and I couldn’t open my eyes.

Ah, crap.

After a solid two minutes of valiant effort, I finally managed to use my fingers to pry my right eye open, which was awful for a number of reasons, but the biggest one being that my face was now swollen like a beach ball and touching it burned like hellfire.

With my one slit-eye barely open and blurry to boot (both eyes were, despite being swollen shut, leaking an impressive amount of fluid), I managed to stagger out of bed in the dark, get mildly dressed, and more or less trip downstairs to get Reese.

I’m infinitely grateful that he was awake—we carpool to work right now, but it was still early—and that he answered the door when I knocked.

After jumpscaring him with my best impression of a playground kickball, he took me back upstairs and the next thing I knew, we were on our way to the hospital. Joy!

Part 3: I Dramatically Increase My Likelihood of Dying First in a Horror Movie

After waiting for a good twenty minutes (the instant care hadn’t opened yet), I managed to mumble out my name and date of birth, get a bracelet, and be directed into the nurse’s office.

The first two nurses were relatively calm, asking me if I was able to breathe and swallow just fine (I was) and if I could see (I couldn’t.) Then, when the doctor came out to see me, the first words out of her mouth were, “Oh my goodness!”

Which was fair, because I’m sure I looked nothing short of alarming.

She took my heart rate, asked some more questions, and then went,

“Well, you’re allergic to bees now.”
“…What?”
“You’re allergic to bees. I’m prescribing you an epipen. You’ll have to carry it whenever you’re going outside.”

That was pretty upsetting, because I’d never dreamed of being an asthmatic who also was allergic to bug spray and was now also allergic to bees. Having to carry around an inhaler and an epipen just seemed like adding insult to allergy, and I realized that if I ever ended up in a horror movie, I was going to die first.

So, after getting an absolutely beefy shot in my hip (which involved taking my pants off), Reese took me back home, no worse for wear but no less inflated, either.

Part 4: Survival of the Stiffest

The rest of my day was spent exactly how I hate spending it. Not doing anything and stuck in bed. My eyes weren’t open enough to be able to do something like drawing, and my body was in a bad enough condition that I wasn’t able to go on a walk or run on the elliptical, which I also love doing. So, I was stuck. I tried to get up the energy to look for my fall apartment or register for classes or work on my portfolio or something, but in the end I ended up falling asleep at my computer.

And that was it. The rest of my day was no different. Lying in bed, getting up at intervals for water and to call the hospital and the pharmacy (my prescription got lost in translation and I wasn’t able to pick it up today) and generally feeling restless and exhausted.

I decided to write this post about it, partially to document the sheer stupidity for posterity and partially to give me something to do, because I’m not tired anymore and it’s almost 11:00 pm.

There’s not really a moral to this story. Don’t develop allergies, I guess? Or maybe get a better relationship with taking breaks and resting than I have.

Or like, maybe don’t get stung by bees if you can help it. I don’t know.

Please enjoy some pictures of the bee incident:

The initial sting, about two minutes after stinger removal.

Minor swelling. My nose becomes tube-shaped and upsetting.

The next morning, I am unable to open my eyes. I don’t know how I managed to get this picture.

Waiting at the hospital. I can keep my right eye open if I really force it, but that left eye was not budging.

Home from the hospital, right eye now compliant and left eye still stubbornly resisting me.

Having a very bad time, but at least my left eye finally started listening and cracked open.

Anyway. Enough about all this. Goodnight. If i’m still swollen in the morning, I’ll come back and edit this post or just make another one. Wish me luck!