Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee

So the quote by Muhammad Ali goes.

Butterfly, RHS Wisley, glasshouse,
February 2012, Lesley Beeton

Well, after quite a busy week looking after Dad, I was really looking forward to having Friday to myself. We were up early, washing in the machine, dogs walked, Mr B ready for work when I WAS STUNG BY A BEE! I know it was a bee because a) I saw it on the dog towel, and b) IT LEFT ITS DAMN STING IN MY THIGH!

Don't look if you are easily grossed out!

OK, I'll stop shouting now but I want to make it clear that it was very painful, and the neither the Boxers nor Mr B were any help at all. So I sent the former to bed and the latter to work. I scratched away the sting, washed my thigh, applied anti-sting stuff, took an anti-histamine, and got on with the day. Until 4pm when I suddenly registered a pain in my leg and found that my thigh was swollen, red and hard, a bit like when I was bitten by the white-tailed spider. Now, I keep a stash of antibiotics for just this eventuality, so I self-medicated; very brave of me. Dr B's contribution? To mark the area of cellulitis with a thick, permanent, black marker! So, not very sympathetic then. I think you may be seeing a pattern developing here - me being bitten/stung and him not being very impressed by my wounds. I suppose if you're dealing with really ill people, your wife's discomfort is not that important.


Fast forward to 1.30am this morning. Dr B is on call. It's the Registrar calling about a patient. Dr B is all charm, and off he goes to sort things out; well, it is his job after all. I caught up on Twitter and blog reading and at 4am decided to try to sleep again - and five minutes later he was back. Talk about inconsiderate.


When the alarm went off at 6am, I got up and took the dogs for a walk in the woods, first getting Dr B's breakfast as he is working today. We had a (pleasant) surprise in the woods, however. A tented camp has gone up overnight and dance/rave/trance music was being blasted out at us. There were some zombies awake, but they were not very communicative. The Boxers were bemused, I thought the tune (there seemed to be only one) was rather catchy and we practically skipped round our walk. Couldn't hear the birdsong though.


Two cups of tea and a bowl of porridge later, blogs written, emails done, more washing, dishwasher unpacked and repacked, birds fed, and phew, I think I might be ready for my second sleep. 


Oh! And what was Dr B's parting words of wisdom? Remember to keep your leg elevated! Ha! 


Have a super Saturday!

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