You would never Bee-leive this

It’s been a tough week in the Shroder house this week, well I say the house, mainly just me. I caught strep in the middle of the biggest surge of COVID cases the world has ever seen. As I sit here and write this I just read that Florida had nearly 10,000 cases today. That’s quite a lot and while we don’t have elderly relatives here and are in the main fairly healthy it’s still just starting to get a little worrying.

But anyway, Strep is like Allergies, something that doesn’t exist in England. Never ever have I heard of anyone in England having Strep throat in 35 years. I think it is tonsillitis, but I can’t be 100% sure. Well it hit me hard, fever, couldn’t swallow, could barely move but I’m a fighter, I don’t let it get the better of me. 2 days in bed and I am right as rain. I’m a bit like the Lance Armstrong of Strep, not that I am a life ruining drug cheat, just that I am a survivor.

Laura was a fantastic nurse, a role she is not naturally suited to but performed incredibly nonetheless. She brought me regular drinks, both hot and cold, forced medicine down my throat and took control of my recovery. This has meant though that she is now in full nurse mode and can’t get out of it. I have (very well controlled) diabetes, not Type 1 diabetes, the type you can feel sorry for, I have fat mans diabetes. I got diagnosed with it at 30 which I think must be some sort of record, but at 30 I weighed in at a trim and ready 308 lbs, just a tiny bit overweight for a 6 foot 3 man.

I’m not 308 lbs anymore and I am in whats called remission, so I don’t take any medication, I just don’t drink full fat coke, which is punishment enough. I do though need to have regular blood tests and I am due one. Since the switch to “Nurse Laura” this blood test has become the most important thing in our lives. I’ve been putting it off to be honest, been busy and dying of a throat infection, that and I didn’t fancy wading through a sea of Covidiots to get this done. That answer was not enough though and Laura has taken to sending me pictures of infected diabetic feet at regular intervals followed by the words “I’m not pushing you around in a wheelchair” so I caved in and got the paperwork on my way home from golf today, if I get Covid from going to get this blood test I am not to blame.

One positive thing though is that the blood test takes place at the same place I have to go to give a sample to prove that my vasectomy worked, so as she is forcing me to go I expect, no demand, some help with that

Anyway, the time spent in bed suffering meant I had chance to think and bizarrely I couldn’t stop thinking about another time I was in pain, about a year or so ago.

I used to smoke and I obviously could not smoke in the house, I mean I’m not an animal, so I went out into our very small back yard at the time. I didn’t really even like smoking that much, I only took up to get an extra five minutes an hour off work and an extra five minutes an hour out of the bear pit that is our house when the kids aren’t listening and then I went through my usual routine. Flicked through Facebook, made my way through my 15th heater of the day and wandered back inside.

I got back in the house and needed the bathroom, which was on the way to the living room so I went inside. My zip was undone, which is not unusual to be honest and is vastly more common than being done up properly. I went to get myself arranged correctly to finish the procedure.

What was odd though was there was this searing pain, like I’d got myself caught in the open zipper, and the pain just got worse and worse. That and my bollocks were buzzing like a housewives toy drawer.

I yanked my shorts and boxers down, screaming in agony. I actually thought I had been bitten by a spider and called for my own personal Florence Nightingale. By the time Laura made her way to me I had pulled something out of right testicle but it was still throbbing. There I was standing there stark bollock naked from the waist down tears in my eye with Laura just laughing at me. It was the most intense pain I’d ever felt.

Laura figured it out eventually, a bee had somehow got in to my open fly while I was out smoking and then just as I was about to shake hands with the unemployed stung me literally in the right plum. Whilst with hindsight I applaud her for working it out so quickly under such stressful circumstances, She could have been a bit quicker in realizing that the sting was still firing venom into me with horrendous rhythm, each pulse making me clinch and want to vomit with equal ferocity.

We ran upstairs as Laura’s new occupation of professional testicologist was not over and nor was my suffering. Pain is one thing, I can cope with pain, shame and embarrassment not so much. Laura spent the next 10 minutes, tweezers in hand as slowly and delicately as possible plucking a bee sting out of the most tender area imaginable

After about 45 minutes the pain died down, the swelling didn’t though and I really wish the bee had died for something worthwhile and got the frank rather than the beans.

Ultimately, where I am meandering to with this is I know pain. In the last year I’ve had both strep and a bee sting to the nuts. So I don’t want to be hearing from Laura about childbirth and how much it hurt. Try running naked through the house in tears while the kids watch their mother attack you with tweezers. That’s real pain, for everyone involved. If I had any respect in this house I lost it that day.

We are trying to grow the blog again, so any comments, likes, shares are greatly appreciated, you can follow us on twitter @Tshroders for real time updates usually on things that wouldn’t warrant a full post. For example my last tweets involved me hiding in the bathroom because Laura wanted advice on birthday presents for her friend.

Florida people, stay safe, British people, get your arses back to work, you’ve had 3 months off now, lazy bastards.