Violent Bees

I'm a swinger.

I will go back and forth between Pakistan and Canada, just to keep things lively.

Remember the post about the event with the three not-your-average lady dancers? I forgot to mention an occurence that happened that night but did not transpire until three days later.

As we waited for everyone to file out after the event, and I got 'the look' from one the dancers, I remember seeing my husband rubbing his neck. You could clearly see his discomfort but he did not say a word. It was a fleeting episode that I didn't recall until I saw the back of his neck afterwards. After taking a shower, he asked me to look at his neck. He said he felt a burning sensation and didn't know why.

I pulled down the collar of his shirt and was mortified. His skin was purplish-blue, with a multitude of bumps and scales. I choked on my own saliva. "What the hell?! How long have you felt this burning sensation?" I asked, trying to mask the quiver in my voice. When he wasn't looking, my eldest daughter and I were trading shocked expressions. "Well, I thought something bit me at the party. And then I looked down and I saw this black bee on the floor...dead." I covered my mouth to smother my gasps. "Are you sure it was a bee? There are multiple bites on your neck." I was still trying to tone down my shock and ask in my most doctor-like voice, as I would the girls when they would come to me with a sliver in their hand. "I saw a dead bee on the ground." He nudged me aside as he tried to view his back through the bedroom mirror. I looked for an entry point but it looked like the damn thing bit him over and over.

I grabbed my medical suitcase (no word of a lie, my medical supplies were in a small suitcase -- a portable Canadian pharmacy) and search for an antiseptic analgestic cream. "We have to call Asad to confirm what meds you need." Asad was a doctor and family friend who was visiting Pakistan with his family during July. He used to live in Pakistan but experienced its violence with three home invasions at gunpoint. He had enough and immigrated to Canada to start a new life and ensure safety for his wife and children. Why he was back visiting was a question I should have asked myself.

Despite the fact that we took preventions against malaria, hepatitis A & B, typhoid and diaherra, I was unconvinced that all this would protect him from whatever took a chunk out of his neck. As he tried to use my makeup mirror to see his condition of his neck, I flew across the room to intervene. "You just let me take care of it. Its not so bad but I need a doctor to look at it -- just as a precaution." He shrugged his shoulders as I applied nearly an entire tube of Polysporin on his neck.

His UK cousin walked in, wondering what all the commotion was about, when he suddenly released a slew of profanities after viewing my husband's neck. Anything you say in a British accent sounds intelligent but I personally struggled with the advice he gave him: "Dude, it looks like an alien got tangled up in your neck hairs and fought for his life! You should consider going for a back wax!"

Terroism, tumult, uproar, struggle, corruption, bloodshed, crime, immorality, natural disasters and ...violent bees. At that point, I just wanted to "wax" Pakistan off the world map.

Just another notch on the frayed belt that continued to whip me on a daily basis...