Pathetic amount of sympathy and an occasional rubbing down with hydrocortizone cream. That is all I'm getting from Brad. These bee stings are BAD! I would post a picture, but I really don't want my pasty fat rolls and backne chronicaled for the blog-o-sphere.
On Friday morning after the bee incident, I asked Brad to rub on some cream to which he replied, "Geez! Those are pretty bad. Do you think you need to see the doctor?" What can they do really? I wasn't having any breathing trouble, so I figured it was a waste. I couldn't wear a regular bra to the last day of school, so I wore a stretchy nursing sports bra, baggy shirt and yoga pants I could pull down under the bite on my waist. Classy.
After 30 minutes as school I was pretty miserable. I went to the nurse, who has seen everything (even swine flu this week) expecting a dab of calamine lotion and maybe an ice pack. Instead, she gasped in horror and said, "Oh my gosh! Are you allergic to bees?" Having never been bitten before, I figured everyone got 6-8 inch in diameter whelps that are raised about an inch and look like a fried egg, but instead of yellow and white are red and pink. She forced me to take oral benadryl and advised I go to the doctor for a epi shot.
Not being able to take time off on the last day of school, I forged on in a Benadryl haze. I took Claire to my mom's after school and Mom gasped as well and took pictures (but doesn't have internet access to post them). Which makes me wonder why she wanted pictures...baby book? To show the neighbors? Hang on the refridgerator?
After a night's sleep (on ice packs) the red part has shrunken, but the pink is still huge. And they itch like mad. I'm having fantasies about taking a belt sander to my back. Aaaahhh...
This is the most exciting thing to happen to me in a while. I'm going to soak up the attention while I can. Hopefully the swelling and itching will go down some more tonight.
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