I was stung by a scorpion. I knew the ugly, evil-looking things were out there. I’d been warned when we moved into this house. “Always check your shoes,” the previous occupant said. There have also been a few rattlesnakes that needed to be carted off by the-snake-picker-uppers-guys. What did I expect? It’s West Texas, afterall. What I didn’t expect was to be stung on my own patio in broad daylight.
I had left my shoes and socks outside on the patio for a few minutes to come inside and get some Crystal Lite.
Sometimes lemonade is just not worth it—especially if you’re not even sure there are real lemons in it. The quenching of my thirst was not worth the consequential pain. Lesson learned.
Here’s what happened.
After sitting barefoot for awhile enjoying the beautiful weather outside, I decided to put my shoes back on. It was time to get moving on a lazy Saturday. As I slipped on my Keds, a burning hot pain shot through my foot like a bolt of lightning. A scorching pain blasted near my toes. My heart pounded in my chest as my eyes flew open in horrific realization. I caught my breath too shocked to scream. This was it. Death surely awaits.
My life flashed before my eyes exactly like a corny photo montage they use in the movies. As crazy as it sounds, I was really upset because the music was all wrong. Instead of a romantic, sweet, heart-breaking melodramatic soundtrack like Terms of Endearment or Steel Magnolias, my life passed in front of me to the strains of Eminem’s ‘I Need A Doctor’. What was up with that? The universe has a sense of humor. I always knew that. Was it karma that as I lay dying the Universe sends Eminem to taunt me? Karma! At that moment, I knew I shouldn’t have changed the Netflix cue to move all my girlie movies to the top of the mailing list. No wait…it’s just Greg in the shower with his iPod on the stand blaring obnoxious singers. The “music” is coming from the window. What a cruel way to die…
Before I passed out from the surge of noxious poison coursing through my veins, I yelled over Eminem’s death serenade, for my husband. It was a shriek of demise, a scream that said my final moments were at hand and he should get off the computer and say goodbye to his fast-fading wife.
I knew my knight in shining armor would rush to my side and slay any dragon that had me within its grasp. A snake? Not a problem. A pack of wolves, he’d rush in. A non-sparkly vampire sucking my blood? He’d bring the wooden stake. A field mouse skittering across the patio? Nope. I’d be on my own for that one.
To say the man hates rodents is like saying Superman hates kryptonite. I believe it’s the only thing that creeps him out. I’m pretty sure he’d freeze and think twice about saving me from some cute, furry, mouse with little fangs nibbling on my flesh. BUT wait…I wasn’t being attacked by Mickey or any of his vermin friends. I had a scorpion in my shoe! No…not just sitting in my shoe, but attacking my foot! I needed help. I needed rescuing. I needed for him to face-off with the horrendous killer that had its tail planted into my big toe shooting poison directly into my veins!
Like all people who are faced with life and death situations, I kept my cool. I thought through the problem very thoroughly. I settled upon the best course of action and then proceeded with the most viable plan. Okay, I lie.
I threw myself on the concrete patio and backed up like a lobster on my hands and feet—you know the kind that P.E. coaches made you do across the gym? THAT’s what I was doing—only with one leg because I held the pain-filled, throbbing foot with the scorpion attached, out in front of me as if I could escape the deadly injection of venom shooting up my leg by getting away—not from the offending creature, but my own foot. I can’t say it was a conscious decision. I just did it. While screaming like a banshee, I backed up until I hit the patio table leg.
My hero rushed to the back yard. Seeing it was clear of fuzzy, whiskered threats, he rushed out and said, “What?! What’s wrong?”
I’m shaking my foot like a wild woman. The light is fading. I am dying. “Scorpion. In.My.Shoe!” The venom has now reached my heart because I can feel it weakening. My breathing becomes labored. “I love you.” I manage to force from my lips.
Without missing a beat, without fear of any kind, he grabbed my ankle and pulled off my shoe, sock and all. He was ready to stomp on the thing that has terminated his wife, executed the mother of his children.
He swung around away from me and shook it out—near his boots–ready to kill the thing.
I put my hands up over my eyes, but against my better judgment, I peeked out. It’s probably HUGE and black and shiny. He shook the shoe again and a bee plopped onto the patio.
I sniffled and tried to control myself while staring at the predator through my fingers. Not just any bee, either…a tiny bee.
“There’s no scorpion?” I asked, my voice wavering, tears not yet dry on my cheeks.
My dearest man chuckled. “No. I guarantee you, there is no scorpion. Look. It’s a bee.”
“A bee?” I pulled my foot towards my face and lifted it up to see the wound. A tiny little red bump existed on my big toe. “But, it hurt!”
“I don’t doubt it. But, you’ve killed him, so I think you got the better end of the deal.” He laughed and nudged it off the patio with his toe. “I think we should chalk this up to one of your overreaction scenarios.” He offered me a hand to help me up. “I think you’ll live.”
I stood up and hopped on one foot. “It hurts! Really hurts!”
With a smirk the size of Texas, he kissed my forehead and said, “Such a little drama queen.” He scooped me up and carried me into the living room. “Shall I call an ambulance, my lady?”
“Well, it could’ve been a scorpion.” I pouted, crossing my arms over my chest. “They live in the field behind the house.”
“It’s not a field. It’s a golf course.”
“That backs up to a field.”
“There are also rattlesnakes out there, but before you give me another heart attack, make sure the thing isn’t an earthworm.”
“Not funny. Will you get me some Benadryl? Oh and honey… I left my Crystal Lite on the table outside.”