Bite Me!

 Two days ago, I was stung, on my right hand, by a wasp. It hurt like the dickens, and I had to swipe the thing off, because it refused to let go. To treat the bite, I applied a baking soda paste and some topical anti-itch cream. And, thank goodness, I also took the extra precaution of removing all five of my rings.

Twenty four hours later, with my hand resembling a bright red ball, I was persuaded to seek medical treatment. I had no knuckles, and my fingers were puffy little stubs.  I couldn't make a fist, and angry redness was creeping up my arm.

We feared the worst, as we entered the Emergency Room, of our near-by hospital, on a long holiday weekend. We are in the middle of a global pandemic. The place was bound to be overcrowded with broken arms, legs, shootings and all kinds of holiday mishaps. We were surely in for a long tedious wait.

 Well, to our surprise, we were immediately ushered in to an examining room, seen just as rapidly by a doctor and within minutes I was fitted with an IV. Two intravenous drugs and a few instructions later, we were on our way home.

Today, the swelling is down and I am able to grip the steering wheel of the car. The itch is under control, and the redness is almost gone. Thank God for great medical care.

Dear Lord. We are blessed. We thank you for your healing care and continue to watch over us.