EDIT (9:29 p.m): I’m supposed to have my hand above heart level right now per Call-a-Nurse’s instructions. Just a sec, and I’ll get right on that. This officially STINKS. The swelling has moved up my arm about four inches past my wrist. My hand is functioning at about 25%. I’m left-handed which is definitely helpful. I think God is telling me to take it easy for a bit. And I’ve had a sobering thought. Both my uncle Greg and Gabe’s grandma Marilyn died in 2005 of cancer. Both of them endured unthinkable swelling of all kinds of body parts in the last few months of their lives. I don’t know how they persevered with such grace. I’m off to apply ice and read a book and count my blessings!
So, we pulled into the driveway about 20 minutes ago, I grabbed all our stuff out of the van and went to get the mail. Pulled the mail out of the top part. No problem. Stuck my hand in the bottom part where they put the ads, and OWWWWWWWWWWWW! I’m soooo thankful I hadn’t let one of the girls get the mail this time, because I can’t stand the thought of their little hands grabbing a wasps’ nest like mine did. I screamed, I cried, my fingers were throbbing. It felt like I had been stung by 10 wasps in 2 seconds and that they were still stinging me!
A couple minutes later, the sting holes started to show, and there were only two–one each on the middle and ring fingers of my right hand. Twenty minutes later, those two fingers are roughly one-and-a-half times their normal size and getting bigger. Part of me would love for them to get huge, so I can get lots of attention. On the other hand (no pun intended), who am I going to get attention from? And what will happen to my fingers if the skin stretches beyond its breaking point? It’s so tight already. I can bend the top knuckle on my middle finger, and the others are way too swollen. It hurts to type, but I will push through the pain!
I’m not allergic to wasps/bees in the sense that I will die if stung. But the handful of times I got stung when I was younger, I swelled up like a balloon. I remember one time my high school cross country team was taking a 10-mile bike ride out in the country when a bee smacked me in the lip and stung me. By the time we reached our destination, my lips were huge. An hour later, one half of my face was huge. One of the guys in my youth group told me a few days later that he was afraid to ask me about my face, because he thought I had just put on a lot of weight really quick. Uh, on one side of my face?
Anyway. We took the girls to the Columbus Art Festival this morning. We lasted from 11:30-12:45. I didn’t have any grand expectations of actually being able to enjoy any of the art, so I wasn’t disappointed. We pushed both Nina and Ava in strollers. Ava pulled a muscle in her leg (or something) yesterday and was up half the night with a fever, so Gabe made the executive decision to let her ride instead of walk. I figured we’d be the only people pushing an almost-five-year-old in an umbrella stroller. Turns out we were one of 50.
We came back, grabbed lunch at Wendy’s, and now Nina’s napping and the girls are drawing with markers. Gabe left to go back to the Art Festival by himself with instructions to call his cell if my fingers explode. (btw, he destroyed the wasps’ nest and killed the wasps) Next year, I’ll have to find a babysitter and go enjoy the festival with my hubby. There sure are some creative people in this world. I’ll try to post a pic of my hand when Gabe gets back with the camera. It’s getting worse–bigger, redder, hotter, painfuller.
Pray that I get lots of attention to make it all worthwhile.