On Poking a Nest of Hornets in the Rain

Tuesday evening, it started to rain, and I knew we had one of the windows off the yurt, so I thought I’d pop up and unroll the flap so it wouldn’t get wet inside.

This is the stupid part: I knew there was a yellow jacket/ hornet’s nest in the roll.

In my mind, I was going to undo the three clips that hold it, and it would just unroll. When I got to the third clip, that needed a little more work, and the buzzing started . . . well, then it was just like the movies: the swarm of angry bees coming out of the side of the flap, in slow motion.

And then there was the running and the screaming.

I think I ran around the car — twice.

Fortunately, Farmergirl ran and got right into the car. I didn’t want to trap any angry bees in the car with me, and it felt like they were still stinging me, so I kept moving.

About >8 stings on my shoulder and arm later, I got in the car and headed to the house, where I thought we had an Extractor (this little pump jobbie that sucks venom). For the life of me, I have no fucking clue where it went.

Not in the first aid box.

My dad got in the car, and started driving to town, and I got on the phone, trying to find someone who had it. Oh — did I mention I was in the middle of preparations for a dinner party for 9.  So I downed some Benadryl and started chopping and baking stuff (working through the pain was better than sitting around) while I waited for my dad to do the 2 hour round trip to REI (the only flippin’ place I found that had it).

Anyway, we were semi-successful in removing the venom (it really was way too late to really do a good job, and finding the original entry points in the mass of swelling wasn’t easy, but Farmergirl performed the medical tasks valiantly). I did some research and determined that I wasn’t likely to die, but didn’t quite expect the vomiting at 3am (which, although I detest vomiting, I figured the venom needed to get out, and I was okay with that). I didn’t expect to still be queasy today.

But I’m in much better shape than I was a few days ago.

(Of course, I’m not sure “much better shape” ought to describe someone who just admitted to poking a nest of hornets — what a fucking stupid thing to do).

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