The garden this year has been loaded with bumblebees. Why this year more than others, who can say? But often when I'm picking they are buzzing over, under and around my hands. We have an understanding, the bumblebees and I, that I'm only going to be in their space for a short time before moving on and don't wish them any harm.
This gentlemen's agreement of ours has worked all summer . . . until yesterday. I was harvesting pickling cucs when I plunged both hands into the vines to spread them when "Wham!" I was nailed on the outside of my left hand between wrist and bottom of little finger.
When I jerked my hand out of the vines, I had a yellow and black bumblebee very firmly attached to my hand. I had to work a little bit (which I did quite quickly) to get him detached. He'd apparently had sufficient time to pump a whole boatload of venom into my hand though because I'm now deformed.
This was taken first thing this morning.
I truly feel like such a wimp but my hand has been so painful (mostly from the swelling, I'm sure) that I had trouble sleeping last night and all day today the swelling has been slowly moving up my arm so that now it's reached my elbow.
The one smart thing I did was to immediately remove my wide gold wedding band as soon as I ran into the house. Years ago, I had to have it cut off (no small feat) because of a black fly bite on my ring finger.
Now I'm functioning like a one-armed bandit and not getting much done. (Susan, should we start a club?)
My daughter stopped over tonight and I commented to her that I kind of liked how my left hand is so smooth and looks young again.
She said, "Yeah, in an unhealthy sort of way."
the quotidian (10.23.17)
10 hours ago