"Oh, they don't bother me," she said lightly. "I go in and out all the time." Cautiously, Swanson looked at the nest again — to see the bees coming straight at him. "Hurry!" he shouted to Mrs. Jones. "Get in the house."
She stepped quickly inside and closed the screen door. Swanson ran for the van. Too late: they were upon him. He dropped the bags, arms waving wildly. Just as he jumped aboard the van, the bees gave up the chase and returned to their nest. At least half a dozen bumps showed on his bare arm, and he felt more stings on his back and shoulders — like tiny fires."The bags don't matter," Mrs. Jones called out to Swanson. "You go get those stings looked after. Right now!"
About a mile down the road, a hot sensation began at the back of Swanson's neck and spread forward toward his face. His heart began a crazy rhythm, and an intense anxiety took hold of him. Swanson knew that stings could cause fatal reactions in allergic (过敏性的) individuals. But he had been stung the previous summer and the after-effects soon passed. What Swanson didn't know was that it takes an initial sting to make an allergy-prone person become sensitive. The previous episode had turned his body into a time bomb waiting for the next sting to trigger an explosion.Minutes later, still in rural hill country, miles from the nearest medical assistance, Swanson started to lose feeling in his lips. His tongue felt thick and heavy; his pulse was getting louder and more irregular; and there was a loud ringing in his ears. Most frightening, his throat was slowly closing off.
Swanson saw that he was driving too fast even for an empty country road and he thought ahead to the narrow downhill section with its tight curves. He reached for the radio to try to contact his office, but his speech could barely be understood. Reception was also poor that far out. He decided to try again when he reached the mountain road.When he passed a house, Swanson thought of telephoning for help. But it would be a waste of precious time. Local rescue volunteers would have to cover the same ground he was now covering. He knew that a crack rescue squad was on 24-hour duty at the next small town. So his best chance was to make a run for it.
Swanson reached the road leading down the mountain and began the steep, five-mile trip down. His arm had swollen; red bumps were spreading so fast that he could watch them forming. Breathing was becoming more difficult. Swanson remembered what he had been taught during a first-aid course about allergic bee-sting reactions: large amounts of chemicals released by the body as it reacts to the invading poison can widen blood vessels and cause a sudden and dangerous drop in blood pressure, often resulting in shock and possibly death. "Can I reach help before that happens?" he worried.Flying down the mountain, he saw the first of the seven turns coming up fast. Dizzy, weak, his concentration fading, he felt the van slide straight for the rail and the woods beyond. He turned the wheel toward the direction of the slide and felt the van straighten out, missing the rail by inches.
The other curves came up in quick succession. He tried not to panic, tried to focus his brain on each sharp bend. He was almost through the last of them when he realized that his vision was narrowing to a small tunnel of clarity. He was also feeling sleepy and he was sure he was going into shock.Swanson reached for the radio again. "Alert fire station," he said, concentrating to form the words. "Emergency. Bee sting. Severe. There in ten minutes."
"Okay," his office manager replied.
Hold on, Swanson thought. Fight. Keep your eyes open. Breathe. Don't black out.
Now the loss of feeling had spread to his face, and the tunnel vision was getting worse. The last mile down the hill would be the longest. When he glanced in the van's mirror, the face staring back was that of a stranger. The skin was red, the features swollen, the eyes nearly squeezed shut.At last he reached the foot of the mountain and headed for the fire station. Two firemen came running out of the building. Swanson crawled out of the van, took a few steps and collapsed, feeling their hands grab him before he hit the ground. "You made it," he thought. "You're going to be okay."
At the hospital a doctor gave Swanson a large injection of an anti-allergy drug. Within minutes, he felt warmth flowing back into his body and feeling returning to his face and neck. His throat was opening up, and he felt a powerful wave of relief. And, suddenly, he realized how carefully our lives are balanced. How, without warning, death can intrude into the most simple of situations. "You're lucky," a nurse said. "Lots of people don't come through that. You'd have gone into shock if they hadn't gotten you here when they did, and I don't think you'd be alive now." (Words:1,002)
