Owie

During my Friday morning run, I got stung by a bee on my right cheek.  Got the stinger out and thought nothing of it.

Next morning, it’s a little more swollen, a little more noticeable.  Okay.  It’ll pass.  All day I’m feeling my cheek become heavier and heavier.  By dinnertime, it’s grown.

That night, I wake up at three in the morning to find my cheek and eye area has turned into a pillow.  I cannot endure this misery by myself so I find someone to share it with.  I trespass into the master bedroom to wake mis padres.  I sit on the edge of the bed feeling so miserable, so ugly, so ddddaaaaahhhhhh.  My mom suggests we go to the E.R.  I’m down for anything now.  Leggo.

We go a hospital down the street.  Last time I was here, it was for my brother and it was packedddddd.  Every chair taken by someone hurting or someone offering moral support for someone hurting.  This time, it was completely empty.  Nice.  Got to lay down on a hospital bed for the first time.

Long story short, doctor said I need to take some meds and sent me on my way.

It’s taking a lot longer than I expected for this thing to wind down.  Meanwhile, I have church and school and work.  Everywhere I go, I get double-takes, stares, embarrassed looks.  When I talk to people I know they’re looking at my eye and I’m sure they know I know.  There’s this tension and I just want to interrupt our conversation and let them know, “No, I didn’t get socked, I got stung by a bee.  Yes, really, a bee stung me.”

Aside from pretending not to notice my eye/cheek, the other reaction was, “OMG WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR EYEEE?!?!!??!  Did someone beat you up??”  Hahahaa that would been more interesting and fun to tell people but that would also be lying.

It’s soooo crazy.  I’m amazed how a swollen cheek affects my day.  I feel more self-conscious.  People see me differently, stare at me, tell me they’re sorry and sympathize with me.  I felt bad for people and wanted to hide my face for their sake, so they wouldn’t have to go through masking their reaction and trying not to make me feel bad.  I don’t know.  It was really interesting, a pretty good experience.

Throughout the day, I was constantly reminded whose I was.  And nothing on the outside could touch the inside.  I love being me.