Category Archives: pain

On a wasp sting

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Yes, I got stung on Saturday morning by a wasp–some sort of paper wasp, I think. Nailed me right in the leg. The pain is also accompanied by a burning sensation that reminds one that wasps are dangerous. Now, I’m rather fortunate in that I am not particularly allergic to bee and wasp stings, but others might not be so lucky. The little devils just love to build their little paper constructions in the most annoying places, such as under my back patio table. They are both persistent and fast, and before I knew it, I was stung and running for my life. You see, wasps, unlike bees, can sting you multiple times because their stingers are smooth, and it does matter how many times they sting you. A single sting for me is more of an annoyance than anything else, but I did take an antihistamine and put hydrocortisone on the sting sight. It hurt for awhile, no question. The question of cohabitating with these dangerous insects, even though they pollinate to a certain extent, is highly problematic because I won’t do it. I got out my can of wasp spray and killed the little interlopers–end of story. I don’t understand their role in the world, they are dangerous, and they build their nests in inappropriate places which pose a real danger to all–people, pets, and other animals. This was not my first tangle with wasps, nor will it be my last, I’m afraid. The whole experience was extremely distastful because I hate killing things.

On a wasp sting

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Yes, I got stung on Saturday morning by a wasp–some sort of paper wasp, I think. Nailed me right in the leg. The pain is also accompanied by a burning sensation that reminds one that wasps are dangerous. Now, I’m rather fortunate in that I am not particularly allergic to bee and wasp stings, but others might not be so lucky. The little devils just love to build their little paper constructions in the most annoying places, such as under my back patio table. They are both persistent and fast, and before I knew it, I was stung and running for my life. You see, wasps, unlike bees, can sting you multiple times because their stingers are smooth, and it does matter how many times they sting you. A single sting for me is more of an annoyance than anything else, but I did take an antihistamine and put hydrocortisone on the sting sight. It hurt for awhile, no question. The question of cohabitating with these dangerous insects, even though they pollinate to a certain extent, is highly problematic because I won’t do it. I got out my can of wasp spray and killed the little interlopers–end of story. I don’t understand their role in the world, they are dangerous, and they build their nests in inappropriate places which pose a real danger to all–people, pets, and other animals. This was not my first tangle with wasps, nor will it be my last, I’m afraid. The whole experience was extremely distastful because I hate killing things.

On a sore neck

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You ever get a sore neck that makes turning your head just about impossible? Whenever anyone speaks to you, or you hear a strange noise, or you turn to get a plate out of the cupboard, your neck just stops working–the swivel is broken and you feel about a hundred years old. You have to turn your whole body to see just normal stuff. I pulled a small muscles in my shoulder about two weeks ago, and I’ve been having a lot of fun since. First, driving is impossible. Second, any time you have to turn around, your neck is having second thoughts about the whole operation. Third, no matter what you do for a pillow, sleeping and lying down are new adventures in pain. You have to turn your whole body to see what’s behind you, and it looks so unnatural. Instantly, everyone is asking, “What’s wrong with your neck?” as if you didn’t know there was a problem. It seems, too, that just about the time it starts feeling better, you fall asleep sitting up in some strange position, and it continues to hurt like the devil every time you need to turn your head. You don’t dare look behind you because if you do you risk snapping your head clean off. Yes, you can take some “pain relievers” but they only solve the problem temporarily because it always comes back. A sore neck reduces you from functioning human being to orthopedic nightmare that can barely move, and all the while you feel like the oxidized version of the tin man from the Wizard of Oz. My kingdom for an oilcan.

On a sore neck

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You ever get a sore neck that makes turning your head just about impossible? Whenever anyone speaks to you, or you hear a strange noise, or you turn to get a plate out of the cupboard, your neck just stops working–the swivel is broken and you feel about a hundred years old. You have to turn your whole body to see just normal stuff. I pulled a small muscles in my shoulder about two weeks ago, and I’ve been having a lot of fun since. First, driving is impossible. Second, any time you have to turn around, your neck is having second thoughts about the whole operation. Third, no matter what you do for a pillow, sleeping and lying down are new adventures in pain. You have to turn your whole body to see what’s behind you, and it looks so unnatural. Instantly, everyone is asking, “What’s wrong with your neck?” as if you didn’t know there was a problem. It seems, too, that just about the time it starts feeling better, you fall asleep sitting up in some strange position, and it continues to hurt like the devil every time you need to turn your head. You don’t dare look behind you because if you do you risk snapping your head clean off. Yes, you can take some “pain relievers” but they only solve the problem temporarily because it always comes back. A sore neck reduces you from functioning human being to orthopedic nightmare that can barely move, and all the while you feel like the oxidized version of the tin man from the Wizard of Oz. My kingdom for an oilcan.

On staying home

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You really can’t be hip and stay home. Yet, there are times when staying home is not a bad idea, and being hip has is not always what it cracks up to be. Sometimes, the best thing you can do for yourself is heat up a cup of coffee, pull on a sweatshirt, open a book, turn off the television, and read something new. Sometimes you just need to get out of the street and enjoy a little solitude, a comfy sofa, a warm blanket. Yes, you can spend a lot time and money going to the latest clubs or restaurants, bars or whatever, but in the end, what do you really have? All experiences are fleeting and ephemeral and our constant drive to consume everything is driving us all mad. There has to be a point when, just to maintain your sanity, you need to stay home and make your own coffee (and not pay some exorbitant price for it). Of course, you won’t be famous for staying home. Nobody will know your name if you stay home, but then, do you want people to know your name, necessarily? If you stay home, you might get some much needed sleep. You might write a letter or read a book (made of paper). You might talk to your family. You might cook a meal–something healthy? If you stay home, you don’t have to put up with strange or odd people that don’t have your best interests in mind. If you stay at home one night, you might feel pretty good the next day.

On staying home

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You really can’t be hip and stay home. Yet, there are times when staying home is not a bad idea, and being hip has is not always what it cracks up to be. Sometimes, the best thing you can do for yourself is heat up a cup of coffee, pull on a sweatshirt, open a book, turn off the television, and read something new. Sometimes you just need to get out of the street and enjoy a little solitude, a comfy sofa, a warm blanket. Yes, you can spend a lot time and money going to the latest clubs or restaurants, bars or whatever, but in the end, what do you really have? All experiences are fleeting and ephemeral and our constant drive to consume everything is driving us all mad. There has to be a point when, just to maintain your sanity, you need to stay home and make your own coffee (and not pay some exorbitant price for it). Of course, you won’t be famous for staying home. Nobody will know your name if you stay home, but then, do you want people to know your name, necessarily? If you stay home, you might get some much needed sleep. You might write a letter or read a book (made of paper). You might talk to your family. You might cook a meal–something healthy? If you stay home, you don’t have to put up with strange or odd people that don’t have your best interests in mind. If you stay at home one night, you might feel pretty good the next day.

On the common cold

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There are more than a hundred different rhino viruses that come under the heading of the common cold, so unless you’ve had all one hundred plus, you are always in danger of catching a cold someplace–the super market, church, school, work, the mall, the airport, wherever people gather. The cold is the perfect disease because it doesn’t kill it’s host, it only makes the host feel bad for a few days, and then it goes away. You get a runny nose, some fever, a sore throat, a few body aches, a nagging cough, but you are never in danger of dying, even when you feel like the contrary may be true. Sometimes a cold will make you feel absolutely crappy, especially at night when you want to sleep. Either the coughing keeps you awake, or the sneezing makes your ribs hurt, or you can’t blow your nose one more time or it will bleed. I think that high dosis of Vick’s work wonders, but I have no proof of that–I just think it’s right. You cough until you are blue in the face and just can’t cough anymore. You cough up nightmarish stuff that could gag a horse. If you take medicine, the cold lasts about fourteen days, and if you don’t take anything, it lasts about two weeks. Oh, people have their home remedies–vitamine C, zinc, chicken soup, hooch–of those only the hooch will make you feel better (for obvious reasons). The thing with the cold is this: you really don’t feel bad enough to stay put and stay home, which would kill the cold. No, you go out, spreading the cold from here to kingdom come, and the cold virus has a whole new world to infect. That’s why the cold is the perfect disease.

On the common cold

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There are more than a hundred different rhino viruses that come under the heading of the common cold, so unless you’ve had all one hundred plus, you are always in danger of catching a cold someplace–the super market, church, school, work, the mall, the airport, wherever people gather. The cold is the perfect disease because it doesn’t kill it’s host, it only makes the host feel bad for a few days, and then it goes away. You get a runny nose, some fever, a sore throat, a few body aches, a nagging cough, but you are never in danger of dying, even when you feel like the contrary may be true. Sometimes a cold will make you feel absolutely crappy, especially at night when you want to sleep. Either the coughing keeps you awake, or the sneezing makes your ribs hurt, or you can’t blow your nose one more time or it will bleed. I think that high dosis of Vick’s work wonders, but I have no proof of that–I just think it’s right. You cough until you are blue in the face and just can’t cough anymore. You cough up nightmarish stuff that could gag a horse. If you take medicine, the cold lasts about fourteen days, and if you don’t take anything, it lasts about two weeks. Oh, people have their home remedies–vitamine C, zinc, chicken soup, hooch–of those only the hooch will make you feel better (for obvious reasons). The thing with the cold is this: you really don’t feel bad enough to stay put and stay home, which would kill the cold. No, you go out, spreading the cold from here to kingdom come, and the cold virus has a whole new world to infect. That’s why the cold is the perfect disease.

On sleet

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Sleet is one of those easy metaphors for the difficulties life drops on your head: frozen rain. Walking in the sleet this afternoon, I was reminded that you cannot only not predict what might happen at any given moment, but that life is a tenuous adventure at best. Sleet stings as it hits your face, cold and icy. In vain, you put up your hands to block this icy sand that hits your tender skin. Sleet is anti-aesthetic. Snow gently falls on valley and field, horse and rider, but sleet just piles up in the corners like so many dead crickets. Sleet is death-like, the bottom pit of winter. It freezes on your windshield, turns into shiny ice on overpasses, turns steps into a death trap. Whatever is bad and evil and uncomfortable about winter is embodied in those stone-hard pellets of ice that tumble aimlessly through the sky and hit you on the head. Sleet seems to be an outcast of Hell, even unworthy of one of Dante’s circles. Cars spin madly out of control, people slip and slide wildly in a surrealistic comic ballet, and your tulips develop a shiny death glaze that will leave them brown and wilted. The birds hide, the peach blossoms fall off, and the squirrels sleep the sleep of the just plain tired.

On sleet

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Sleet is one of those easy metaphors for the difficulties life drops on your head: frozen rain. Walking in the sleet this afternoon, I was reminded that you cannot only not predict what might happen at any given moment, but that life is a tenuous adventure at best. Sleet stings as it hits your face, cold and icy. In vain, you put up your hands to block this icy sand that hits your tender skin. Sleet is anti-aesthetic. Snow gently falls on valley and field, horse and rider, but sleet just piles up in the corners like so many dead crickets. Sleet is death-like, the bottom pit of winter. It freezes on your windshield, turns into shiny ice on overpasses, turns steps into a death trap. Whatever is bad and evil and uncomfortable about winter is embodied in those stone-hard pellets of ice that tumble aimlessly through the sky and hit you on the head. Sleet seems to be an outcast of Hell, even unworthy of one of Dante’s circles. Cars spin madly out of control, people slip and slide wildly in a surrealistic comic ballet, and your tulips develop a shiny death glaze that will leave them brown and wilted. The birds hide, the peach blossoms fall off, and the squirrels sleep the sleep of the just plain tired.