I discovered I outgrew my bee-sting allergy a little over a year ago quite by accident. It involved what could be termed addiction, or at least a very keen interest in chocolate. Even and especially dark chocolate.
Hammond's, a local candy company, had made a sixty percent dark chocolate bee pollen bar. The label had me at dark chocolate. I found the bee pollen gave the bittersweet an interesting touch. So, I got another bar for Sabina and I to share for dessert.
"You want to tell me exactly how you're still alive after eating this, Mister?" She asked me when I showed her the candy bar in question.
"It's a complex process of a heartbeat, the intake of oxygen, the consumption of food, and sheer force of will," I said, amazed that she was shooting me something of a disgusted look.
"I meant this," Sabina said, showing me the warning on the wrapper.
"Warning! Do not consume if you have an allergy to bee pollen or bee stings..."
I know how to read and do it a lot. Once, I mentioned I had little respect for those who couldn't read and none for those who just don't. In the name of satisfying my chocolate jones, I'd become someone I had no respect for.
Apparently, allergies can change over time. I had asthma when I was younger and it seems to have long since disappeared, which is strangely auspicious given I live at elevation. When I was allergic to bees, it wasn't Epi-pen talisman allergic, just some hives and itchies.
"Well, praises be!" I said in my father's Carolina accent. "A miracle!"
I was mowing out back barefoot before breakfast and the days adventures got underway. Bees danced through the dandelions as I sliced them down. One was not so lucky, its mutilated remains flailing by pure chaos atop my left foot. In its death throes, its stinger pierced my flesh. It was a pain I'd not felt in a very long time.
Of course, were my twisted spine straight, I'd be over seven feet tall, instead of only being around six and half. I have a connective tissue disorder similar to that of Marfan's Syndrome, sans the heart issues, and because of that, even and especially when the weather changes rapidly, my joints creak and groan and snap and crackle and pop. I was married to a Catholic once. I am no stranger to pain, but, like fear, I refuse to be in its thrall.
With Sabina's help, I applied the necessary lotions and potions. After spending so much time trying to avoid getting stung, I'd almost forgotten what to do. I finished my morning tea and the mowing. We had breakfast and went about our day. Quite obviously, I survived.
It's not death if you refuse it. Only if you accept it.
I do confess to being a little upset about this turn of events. See, I once read about someone being bitten by a venomous invertebrate and they got superpowers. Unless one was to say my words can carry a bit of a sting, nothing has happened. Nothing!
My disappointment is boundless...