Today, my dad sent me this story about a man who died after being stung 3,000 times by Africanized bees. This is pretty much my worse nightmare. Why? Because the same kind of thing happened to me when I was a child.

I haven’t really told many people this story because, well, it’s pretty darn awful. When I was growing up in Maryland, we had a weekend house in Virginia. Nestled in the woods, our house was the perfect getaway. My brothers and I had a ball exploring the woods and going for hikes around our property.

One day, my family had taken a walk down the trail to the creek that ran below our house. As we were returning, I was running ahead of my dad and grandparents with my grandparents’ dog, Dempsey. As you may or may not know, Yellow Jackets typically nest on the ground and Dempsey, unknowingly, stepped right on top of a Yellow Jacket hive. And, since I was right behind him, I was the one they attacked. I don’t know how many there were, but I have to think there were hundreds. There were so many bees on me that I couldn’t move and could barely scream for my dad.

When my dad got to me, he picked me up and carried me the rest of the way up the trail, yelling for my mom, who had stayed home with my brothers. They put me right into a tub of water to try to drown the bees but, since I had such long hair (down to my rear end), they had a horrible time getting all the bees out of it.

I developed an allergic reaction to the numerous bee stings and, now, I freak out if I see a bee, even if it’s one that doesn’t have a stinger.

So, I feel for this man and know just a little about what his last minutes were like. And, his death is one of the most horrible ways I can imagine going.

What are your thoughts on this story? Have you ever been attacked by bees?