May 15 2008
Bee! Through the eyes of an autistic toddler.
My memory:
I was sitting there on my sister’s tricycle with my wispy blonde hair down over my face as usual. Head down on my hands, which were folded over the handlebars. I was staring down at my feet. Watching how my toes smashed into the ground when I pushed backwards up the driveway. They would turn white at the very tip until I completed the backward motion on my heel. I was rocking back and forth, back and forth, only allowing myself to be aware of the changing colors in my toes. The motion was slow and soothing.
Then something caught my eye. Some tiny fury insect was slowly crawling towards me. I watched it carefully navigate a small rock, which diverted it directly towards my pinky toe, now white with the pressure placed on it as I sat frozen in place. As it made its journey closer to me, I watched as it fluttered its wings. Trying to fly maybe, but unable to.
When it reached my toe, it grabbed on and curved its fury back, pocking its stinger at me. I was petrified and unable to move. It let go, turned around, and backed straight into my right pinky toe. Then crawled away, tearing the stinger pouch from its body, leaving a pulsating sack of poison pushing fire inside of my toe.
The pain hit. Then I was inside the front door of my house. Standing there with my head back silently screaming, tears streaming down my face, with my eyes squeezed tightly shut.
As I entered the house, my mother did not immediately see me. She finally heard my gasp for air and turned to see my next silent scream. Not knowing what was wrong, she tried to pick me up, and I immediately arched my back in defiance. She laid me on the floor and watched as I began what she thought was another tantrum. Except this time, I was banging my right foot on the floor and smashing my heel hard into the carpet and as I pushed it up and down the carpet gave my heel a rug burn.
She grabbed my leg to stop me from hurting myself and that is when she saw it. The stinger was still in my toe, in spite of my thrashing around on the floor. She gathered me up and stood me in the bathtub. I remember the flushing of my body as she turned on the cold water and ran it over my feet. The stimulus was overwhelming me, the pain, my body’s reaction to the poison, the temperature of the water. It was all just too much.
