So now that I’ve managed to actually get through a post without for once elaborating on the treachery that school is, I believe now is the time to further expand on what exactly transpired throughout my absence.
‘A’-level examinations are offered, forced if you will, upon students who have by no small feat managed to survive eighteen long grueling years of parents, homework and speeding cars. Said students are to take said exams at the end of their eighteenth year, sitting meekly in a dilapidated examination hall, some nervously twitching in their seats, spinning their pens as if to counterbalance the Earth’s angular momentum, allowing them to have just that little bit more time before the test actually begins.
Anyway, for people like me who don’t actually see the merit in consuming Herbal Chicken Essence of Bird Shit or whatever other nonsense grandmas can come up with these days before an exam, you can probably imagine my surprise at feeling neither dread nor even the slightest sense of foreboding. It was odd. Here I was, about to undertake what some might describe as the biggest test of my educational career, my life, and yet I felt completely unfazed.
Granted, I was talking quite the amount of trash with a pal before entering the examination hall, but everything seemed like I was closing my fly after taking a piss. Nothing at all, even when some papers had me completely stunted as to some of the demands that the questions made of me.
Perhaps it had something to do, of course, with the GIANT HORNET STING that I received the night before my Economics/Chemistry double papers.
Yeah, that was a good one.
So it was the night before said papers, it was around midnight and I was already about to pack my bag and hit the shower when this huge fucking black piece of shit flew into the room and started jerking off to the ceiling light. I wasn’t about to let some big black hairless exoskeleton invade my home, so, seeing as it was this big, I grabbed a small pole and swumg at it like a bat at a baseball. I didn’t really expect to hit right on target, I guess, but I was hoping it would think about landing on lower ground so that I could whack it properly with my phonebook.
Well, my second swing was spot on. Thwack and it goes down on the count onto a stack of books.
Fuck yeah. So I grab a piece of tissue (two, actually, as it was really quite large) and grab it, ready to send it on its final journey through the sewer pipes.
Have you ever been stung by a hornet before? Let me tell you, if you haven’t, you don’t fucking want to know what it feels like. It was unbelievable, like a fucking needle going in and out and in and out and in and out of my finger as the venom did its work. It didn’t feel like my finger was on fire; it felt like my finger was stabbing me repeatedly. With a chainsaw.
I did something, which, on retrospect, was actually quite stupid, but nonetheless better for all (well, maybe just me) concerned immediately after the sting, though; I used my other hand to grab that motherfucker and hold it down in a safe position.
Protip: if you are stung, bitten, or dealt mental harm to by an insect, crustacean or rabid zombie dog of any kind, be sure to either 1. Kill it and preserve it intact (e.g. not crushing it with your hulk fist) or 2. Chop off its head, especially for dogs, which could carry rabies. In any case, identification of the critter is extremely important in determining exactly what treatment should be executed. Also, as much as you may want to, do not massage the wound area. Increasing blood flow in any way generally has very, very bad consequences.
Anyway, I digress. So where was I? Ah yes. Pain. So painful.
Anyway, I yell for my sis to give me a hand, and grab an icepack on the way. At this point I feel like tying a goddamn tourniquet and amputating, because it seriously is that fucking annoying. My mom hears the commotion (naturally) and comes on down to suggest a trip to the hospital, or worse, my uncle’s. (My uncle is a doctor. Actually his whole family is comprised of doctors.) I refuse at first, noting the time, the number of exams that I have tomorrow, and the fact that a hornet sting isn’t exactly like getting shot.
At least, until I start sweating.
I thought it was a natural body response to the venom, until I realized I was feeling a little lightheaded as well. I attributed that to continued exposure to pain, before I realized that I couldn’t really attribute anything to anything else, because I was feeling so tired in all of 3 seconds.
And all this while I was thinking, “What a fucking way to go. Taken out by something not even a tenth of my size.”
You know, syncope wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t fucking still feel the pain through the spell. Maybe it was what actually kept me conscious, but I still say it fucking sucked.
Anyway, my mom got pretty worried, and to tell the truth, so was I. I hadn’t exactly been stung before nor personally knew anyone who had, so it was kind of hazy to try and recall my first-aid. I knew about the ice-pack of course, and had my hand raised above my head to decrease blood flow to the area, but I hadn’t ever experienced a fainting spell first-hand. I did have some sense to check my pulse and temperature with my other hand, but it seemed fine, no tachycardia or anything other than fervent sweating. And by ‘fervent’ I mean waterfall.
So I drag myself out of the chair I was in and through army strong force of will lurch to the waiting car, whereupon my allergic reaction got a lot worse. My stomach started feeling like it was on fire, and my head started spinning more. I was like, this close to losing consciousness.
And all this while my finger still whined at my pain neurons at every chance it got.
My sister had, by this time, thoughtfully transferred the hornet to a container, ready for my aunt and uncle to identify when we got over to their place, which my mom had given a call to. At this point, details get a little bit blurry, but I remember thinking I was possibly having a stroke which could explain the symptoms, so I checked my arms, smile and attempted to ask my sister whether my speech was slurring. All seemed fine, though at that point I don’t really remember what was happening, so I can’t really be sure.
What I do remember is that this allergic reaction had a delayed effect of around 5 minutes, so protip #2: If you are stung/bitten by a cheap piece of shit and even if you feel fine (well, apart from pain), even if you have no known history of allergies, find someone who can monitor you for the next few hours or so to ensure that you don’t go into cardiac arrest or something.
Anyway, while in the car, about 10 minutes after the sweating started, suddenly my stomach growls and it feels like the fire is suddenly being extinguished. And just like that, my sweating stops, my energy starts to flood back into my muscles, and less than 5 seconds later, I feel perfectly fine, except for the knives in my finger. Like, seriously, WTF?
When I reach my aunt’s house, symptoms are recited, critter is identified-yes-it’s-a-hornet-oh-how-sad and I’m given an injection that should supposedly help prevent another reaction or something along those lines, along with painkillers and a host of other meds, including amoxcillin (antibiotics for a sting? Uhh…) and paracetemol (yeah, Panadol sucks at killing pain fyi). Whatever. By this time my main concern is that I won’t be able to hold a pen the next day, which is an actual concern, seeing as both the Chemistry and Economics papers are, combined, over 4 hours long. My uncle wrote me a Medical Certificat, but it could have been a check for a bazillion dollars for all I cared because I was wondering how the fuck I was supposed to get any rest with a finger that felt like it had Marcus Fenix using his chainsaw on it every few seconds.
In the end, I got about maybe 2, 3 hours of sleep, barely enough to keep me on my feet, but my finger felt a lot better in the morning. Granted, I had to change my writing style (thank god I practise drawing using different holds), but I didn’t feel like I needed to ask for additional time, and in the end, everything turned out fine. Sort of.
Finger ached for a few days (it still tingles even as I’m writing this) but for the most part everything’s back to normal, and my exams are already over. Moral of this story?
Do not grab hornets, even with tissue paper. Shoot the living shit out of them.
Seriously, next time I’m going to use my Leatherman to cut off the stinger, and then sting it with its own stinger again and again and again until I either run out of stinger or venom.
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