B is for Bee

I just concluded my day. It's been a long long day - Jazz experienced something that neither her dad nor myself ever came across. She was stung by a bee! How exciting that sounds. It was, until she developed a fever. 

 

I was having lunch with my colleagues when her teacher called to say that she was stung by a bee. For a moment, I wondered if I heard her right, bee in school? I thought they went to the nearby park, but not, the incident took place in the classroom. So well, my first instinct was to bring her to the doctor, but the man rejected my thought when I sought his opinion. According to his 'general knowledge,' he felt it wasn't necessary. 

 

Jazz's teacher demonstrated her first aid expertise. She asked if Jazz had been stung before, which will help determine any allergy. She removed the stinger, cleaned her wound and assured me that she'll be monitored for other symptoms. Like any worried mum, I called the school twice that afternoon just to make sure she was alright. When we were there to pick her in the evening, she limped towards us, 'proudly' showed us her reddish spot on her left foot. Like how she went round showing her classmates the wound, according to her teacher. 

 

When we were finally home, she showed her foot to my mum, yet again. She really is proud of her 'achievement. ' Then I fed her dinner, after which she got very cranky, and I realised she was running a temperature of 38.1 degrees. I panic because I've never been stung and I'm not sure how the fever is of threat to her. The man wasn't home, he went out for an appointment. I grabbed Jazz and walked to the nearby clinic, asked the nurse if she can see a doctor for being stung by a bee. The nurse suggested that I bring her to KKH instead. With Jazz in my arms, I walked to KKH. On the way there, she kept asking for daddy and kept saying that she doesn't want to see a doctor. Doctor equates injection to her. I had to coax her that we are just going for a walk. We saw a doctor, got the medication and I guess she is quite alright. Thank God my mum was able to help me with Jare, although she has completed her shift. 

 

Reddish spot becoming blueish black

 

Curriculum in school was coincidentally on bugs and pets. She learned about bees! That bee was a timely object lesson. She has also been singing: I'm bringing home a baby bumble bee won't my mummy be so proud of me? I'm bringing home a baby bumble bee Ouch! It stung me! I've no idea how how to tune this song, but Jazz knows. And because of this song, the man thought I called to joke about it when I reported on Jazz's incident. To her song, yes, I'm proud of her braving the sting. 

Oh, because she was painfully limping, she had all the authority to ask to be carried everywhere, even at home. Her trick was exposed when my elder bro and his girlfriend came by, she ran so fast towards them that my mum and myself burst out laughing. And you guessed it, she showed them her bumble bee sting. What an 'extraordinary' experience in school. Just this once, no more bee sting, if not... hmm... I'll complain.