Indiana Summer

Occasionally in life things happen that cause ones insides to be ripped wide open. The loss of someone close, whether to death or divorce, the trauma of a horrific car accident where one has survived, flashbacks for vets of war, for instance all come to mind.
This weekend, I had an experience that will definitely go on the list . I hope a similar occurrence will never again happen to me, to my daughter, or to my friends and their children who were involved.
I will preface this simply by saying there is nothing worse than watching your child suffer or to hear your child scream in excruciating pain. Far worse when there is little you can do it make it stop….

Saturday noon. Indian Summer. Beautiful Indiana weather. What sounds like fun? Taking your child to Karst Farm Park to watch your high school soccer team play with several other teachers and their same-aged children. And it was delightful for the few minutes of swinging and climbing and running through the trees.
Unfortunately with Indian Summer also comes a host of bees and wasps, hornets and yellow jackets trying to make the best of the warm days until they are killed off by the first frost.

I think you see where this is going.

The yellow jackets started stinging Ben, the oldest of the children first. His mother began swatting, as the rest of us processed what was happening. And as if in slow-motion our reaction times were slow.
My Lilly was next, stung on her back, and then covered with the jackets, in her jeans, her hair, her arm was stung next and she was hysterical. We moved away from the area but they followed, stinging her again on the wrist. It was a strange dance, we trying to protect our children and as we shook, and swatted, it seemed to make matters worse. I was also stung at least once--who knows after--as the adrenaline kicked in, I found it hard to feel anything. I remember my daughter repeating “I want to go home I want to go home..” over in over as the Yellow Jackets attacked.

She didn’t want to go outside after that. To be honest, I didn’t either. And every itch or unusual sensation on my skin or in my clothes, I begin savagely swatting myself. I double check my drinks, step cautiously through the grass and always wear my shoes.

We won’t be going back to Karst Farm for some time. Well, not until it freezes over.