Excuse the Complaining

It has been over two days since my run-in with the swarming "tracker jackers" and I'm still reeling from the encounter. The epinephrine that they administered at the hospital continues to elevate my heart rate. It's slowly beginning to return to normal when I am resting, but I continue to become winded and quickly out of breathe simply walking around the house. I haven't been able to exercise, but I'm not overly concerned because, according to my calorie counting watch, I am burning nearly 400 calories an hour simply because of my rapidly beating heart. That is not exactly the way that I want to lose weight, but I'll take every pound loss where it can be found!

For lack of a better description, I just feel toxic. My stomach is upset, I'm exhausted, and I have no appetite. Food simply tastes unappealing. I made a cake last night and didn't want to eat any of it. Trust me, I rarely meet a cake I don't like!


To add to my discomfort, the welts are just beginning to present themselves. I mistakenly thought that I wouldn't develop any marks because I was treated at the hospital. I could not have been more wrong! I'm now covered with hot red circles about the size of a half dollar. They are tender to touch and itch constantly. Yesterday afternoon I realized I was garnering stares at the grocery store when I was absentmindedly scratching my stung covered bum--not exactly the ladylike behavior that would make my mother proud!


To phrase it succinctly, I'm miserable. I feel like an ugly, itchy monster with a racing heart and an angry digestive system. I take solace in the fact that I will soon seek my revenge. The exterminators have already been called, and soon the swarms of venomous insects will meet a painful and fiery death. Right now, that is the only thought that seems to bring a smile to my swollen, red and puss encrusted face.