[Written for John Holton’s Writer’s Workshop, for prompt 4: Tell us a story about an allergic reaction]

What do you think of bees? I know they are good for the environment, pollinating plants and making honey, but I hate the little bastards. When I was a kid we often enjoyed hearing this on the radio or seeing it on tv:

Arthur Askey was fun, witty and amusing, and stood a princely 5’2″ tall. Despite the campness of this performance he was married for nearly fifty years, until his wife passed away, and had a daughter who became an actress. I loved watching him on tv when I was little, but not for this song after an incident when I was 5. Bear with me – we’re talking 1959 here – so memories may be a little imperfect, but there is a story behind it.

My childhood home had a large garden and I used to love playing out there whenever I could. One spring day I was doing just that when a vicious bee decided to attack me. I’ve probably endured worse pain in my life, but at the time this was excruciating. The sting was on my big toe – an unlikely place, I grant you. Mum heard my shrieks and came rushing out to find me in floods of tears, holding my wounded foot. I was helped back indoors, limping along the way, and given a drink and a biscuit (her usual answer to everything) while Mum checked the wound to make sure that the sting wasn’t still in it, and put some protective cream on it.

So far so good, we thought, but during the rest of that day I began feeling progressively worse, and not only did my toe start swelling but also the rest of my foot. In those days we didn’t yet have a phone, so when Dad got home from work he was despatched to the local public phone box – those big red things you may have seen in historical photos – to call our GP. The service back then compares very favourably with the waits we have to go through these days, and children’s health was something they took seriously. Our GP, Dr Gertrude Toland, was a wonderful woman – follow that link to read about her – and was with us within the hour. We didn’t have a car then, either, so house calls were the order of the day. Obviously I don’t remember the details of what was said and done, but from talking about this many years later with Dad I managed to piece it together.

Apparently I had an allergic reaction to the sting, which these days would be classed as moderate to severe: I had some of the severe symptoms, such as the swollen foot, dizziness and nausea, but Dr Gertrude didn’t think I was having a full scale anaphylactic response. Probably just as well, because in extreme cases these can be fatal. I was given medication – probably antibiotics, but after such a long passage of time I can’t be sure.

The good bit that I remember is that I had to stay off school until the swelling went down, as I couldn’t get a shoe on and going anywhere unaided was a real no-no. That was probably just for a few days, but it came at a price. I was still hobbling around several days later and dad made another appointment with the GP for me – but this time we had to go to her. Without a car this meant travelling by bus. Luckily the surgery was in the same road as the main bus station in Dover so it was only a case of getting to the bus and the short trip across the road. But I was still very uncomfortable walking so Dad had the brainwave of putting me in the family pushchair, which had only recently been taken out of commission as my little sister was now walking well. I still have memories of being squeezed into the chair, for which I was really too large, and poor Dad having to push me around at both ends of the journey. I can still remember the odd looks we got from passers-by, who clearly thought that I was a lazy little bugger being pandered to!

I don’t really recall much more than that, and I must have recovered alright as I suffered no lasting damage. But it was a scary experience, one that I have never forgotten, and the allergic reaction made the whole thing so much worse than just the pain of the sting itself. My fear and hatred of bees were formed then, and have never left me.

In all the times I have been near bees since then I have been lucky enough to avoid further stings, though I understand that even if I had there was no real likelihood of my having another such an extreme response. I have been stung by wasps on several occasions, though, and these have always been fatal – for the wasps! Sting me and I’ll batter you to bits, you nasty, buzzing creatures!

I am happy to say that this is the only allergic reaction I have ever had, and I know that it pales into insignificance alongside those poor people who suffer from allergies, such as to nuts, which can be fatal. But for a five year old it was definitely a big deal, as evidenced by the fact that I still remember it 66 years on!

As is my usual habit, I’ll leave you with a (kind of) suitable tune:

See you again for Song Lyric Sunday 🐝