An eerie orange pall filled the still dark sky, despite it being a time of day when bright daylight is the norm. It looked creepy and surreal and was way too familiar, reminiscent of the horrific Camp Fire skies. The Bear Fire had flared the day before and was searing the land in southern Butte County.
Our residents were once again faced with the devastating reality of evacuation, destruction, and massive emotional turmoil. My friend and I stood in the parking lot at Horseshoe Lake that morning, first realizing how awful it all was, and then acknowledging that we should not be outside that day. The air was terrible, the ash was falling, our hearts were heavy. As we finished our brief visit, out of nowhere, a bee stung the underside of my right forearm. The burn of the venom was immediate and intense. As we could not see well through the dark haze, my friend used her phone flashlight to shine on my arm and help remove the stinger. We quickly parted ways, driving down the park road watching the ashfall in our headlights.
As I applied ice and then Benadryl to my reddening arm, I wondered why I’d been stung. I was standing still and am not a person who freaks out about bees. Though it was clearly random, the sting gave me pause to reflect. I can only guess perhaps the bee felt as I did that morning; disoriented, despondent, and a little outraged at yet another disaster. How high can the pile of things on our shoulders grow before it becomes too much to bear?
The smoky skies remained all day. Stories of the Bear Fire filled the newsfeed. There were heroics and losses. Butte County was in the national spotlight, once again, for fire. Our friends George and Judy who we met the night the Camp Fire took their home in Magalia, were evacuated from their new house in Kelly Ridge. Their house survived the Bear Fire, but I know there were other Camp Fire survivors who unbelievably, lost their home again. How could this be? The fire blazed and ravaged the town of Berry Creek and damaged other mountain towns severely. It was tragically damaging, and it continued to grow.
The pain in my arm continued to grow too, as it throbbed and swelled. It felt tender and hot to the touch. I had been stung before and knew that I wasn’t allergic. A quick Google search told me it would feel like this for a few days and advised that I continue the ice and salve. When asking my husband Ken to help me wrap an ace bandage around the icepack yet again, he took a closer look at the underside of my arm. The swelling had ballooned my skin leaving my arm looking veinless, red, and rashy. Then Ken realized there was a notable dark red line that traveled from the sting site to my armpit. It seemed to get worse before our eyes. Now was the time to freak out.
I was fortunate. A trip to prompt care, a powerful antibiotic shot in the backside, and 40 more doses in pill form over the course of 10 days had me fully recovered. A century ago, I could have died from an infection like this. That darn bee had a dirty needle and something terrible transferred into my body with its burning sting. I’ll never know for certain what caused the infection, but I have a theory. As that bee flew through the smoke-filled sky, its tiny body couldn’t help but be doused in Bear Fire ash. A microscopic Dr. Suess’s Whoville-sized speck of a remnant of a Berry Creek barn, or Forbestown car, or a Feather Falls stop sign, found its way to the end of that bee. As that bee floundered around that dank and dark morning, I was the recipient of that speck and the bee’s vexation.
We are all impacted in ways big and small by this year’s relentless string of the unexpected and unfathomable. I try to find solace in looking for life lessons and seeking gratitude. The fiery infection in my arm was doused by good medical care for which I am grateful. The flames of the Bear Fire and the North Complex have been quenched by brave, hardworking first responders from all around, Michigan to New Mexico, and beyond. We are all thankful. I am learning patience, resiliency, and flexibility on a whole new level. May the remainder of this year have less sting and no more burn. Buzz off 2020!
Rear View | Reflections on Life's Adventures 