Bitten. Again.

As if snakes weren't bad enough, I have to also worry about venomous ants. 

I got bit for the first time, by Jack Jumpers, last week. 

I've been bitten by Inchmen before. It wasn't nice. Hurt a LOT, and was swollen and itchy for over a week.

When Phillip and I were in Hobart for Ben we visited a free museum (doctors encouraged us to get out of the hospital in between tests as much as possible). There was a Jack Jumper nest on display. And some facts about them being the deadliest animal... creature... in Tasmania. 

Which was surprising. I mean, it's an ant. And not even a large ant. 

But they have a pretty venomous sting that, unfortunately, can commonly cause anaphylaxis. 

They can also jump. 

And have quite a temper. 

And there are at least 3 nests on the small bit of property we own, and the immediate surrounding area that our landlord lets us use (though we don't technically rent that land). I knew they give pretty painful bites (second-hand knowledge till now), and that Phillip is so allergic to the sting, the surrounding area gets ridiculously swollen. Yet another thing I've had to avoid like crazy during outdoor play so Simon and myself don't get stung. They are EVERYWHERE around our house. 

But when we took a walk one evening with Simon, and I saw some blackberries that looked ripe, I was thinking more along the lines of "there's no snakes around, yay! Simon loves blackberries, I can give him a small treat!" than looking out for yet another Jack Jumper nest. So as I reached to check the blackberries, I started to feel a sudden BURNING sting on my ankle. 

Looking down, there were Jack Jumpers swarming everywhere around my foot. I have no real idea what happened next except I apparently, in a panicked tone, asked my husband for help while flicking the ants out of my sock and backing away from the nest, then grabbed Simon and we walked away, me swearing in my head and trying not to panic. 

The ants didn't stay on me, and I only ended up with three bits on my ankle. Somehow I didn't get stung on the hand while pulling the ants out of my sock. Based on my reaction from the Inchman bite, I was thinking something along the same lines would happen or worse, and began frantically (calmly) Googleing what to do for the bites.

I was worried for nothing, as it turns out. All night, the most that happened was the bite marks stung badly now and then, and a week and a day later, they are just VERY itchy. But no worse than a mosquito bite. 

And I have, yet again with my reaction to something, scared Simon sufficiently enough that he really doesn't want anything to do with these bugs. He kept saying "Ma, ow. Ow. Ba bu." (Translated: Mommy, ow. Ow. Bad bugs.) I'm taking that as a very good thing to come out of this.

Also good? Learning the ant stings don't do much more to me than hurt like hell. 

Accidents Happen

We heat our house with a wood fire.

Like most of Tasmania.

This is our first year supplying our own wood. The last two winters we've gotten wood from Phillip's parents.  We figured it was about time we become real grown-up married people and buy our own. Also, we don't like to mooch (though I guess we did work for at least some of the wood we were given, helping split wood at his parents).

Load of wood being delivered

The cheapest way to get wood turns out to be just buying it as logs. Massive logs that you cut and split yourself. Which meant that Phillip got to buy himself a few new toys so he could accomplish this task (being that I was super pregnant, I was not going to help cut and split wood).

So, this past summer, not only did we buy about 15 cubic meters of wood, but Phillip got himself a sweet deal on an Echo chainsaw, and a beautiful splitting ax from Fiskars. He liked his new toys.

All summer, on days that weren't blisteringly hot, Phillip would use bits of spare time to cut through logs with his chainsaw, and then split them into manageable pieces for our fireplace. The wood was then to sit out in the sun and rain for a few weeks so that the sap could be washed out, then put in the shed to dry out so and we could have nice dry wood to burn this winter, unlike the past two winters where most of our wood has either been somewhat green or wet. Our (well, Phillip's) goal was to have it all done by the time the baby came. He came fairly close to accomplishing this goal, too.

Testing out his new chainsaw!

Nearly ALL the logs are cut and half of it split!

Unfortunately, things don't always work as we plan, and, on May 4th, while I was inside cleaning like the crazy pregnant woman I was, hoping I would go into labor at any moment, Phillip was outside splitting wood. Fifteen minutes in, Phillip walks into the house with a funny smile on his face.

"Boy, that was a short time splitting" I said. To which Phillip replied, "I cut myself." very calmly, and then showed me his thumb.

Apparently, while trying to dislodge the ax from a block, he managed to run the VERY sharp blade along the back of his right thumb. And, if you know Fiskars products, they're amazingly sharp (which you want. I love Fiskars. Really, I do).

Into the bathroom I dragged poor bleeding Phillip to clean and look at his thumb. It didn't stop bleeding. The second pressure was off it, it started to pour out blood again (maybe I'm being a bit dramatic with the pouring bit, but it was bleeding a LOT). So we decided to drive up town to get some more bandaids and MAYBE go to the hospital.

In the middle of this trip, my midwife, Jenny, called, to see how I was doing. I said something along the lines of, "Well, I'M fine, but we're trying to decide if we should take Phillip to the ER for some stitches..." Jenny also happens to be a nurse at a clinic, which she told us to come down to so she could take a look at Phillip, give him stitches if necessary, then take a look at me. (See why I love my midwife? And that's only one of many reasons...)

Turns out, Phillip needed three stitches. And a tetanus booster. And a note for a week off work. Thankfully, though, no tendons were cut.

At the clinic, waiting for his DPT shot post sutures

And by the time I went into labor his thumb was mostly healed so I didn't have to worry too much about busting open his stitches or hurting him more while I squeezed his hand.

Nearly all healed up, one more week to go with stitches in
(also, the least bad part of the cut goes nearly to the last thumb joint)

Unfortunately, the time Phillip had to rest his thumb to properly heal, which turned out to be about 4 weeks, and then taking on a lot of the household responsibilities because I had to sit for hours nursing a very hungry baby, as well as recover, has left us with wet wood again this year. We have a system of bringing wood in to dry by the fire so it isn't as sodden as it could be, but it still means that our fire isn't burning as hot as we'd like. Alas, not much we can do about it, and at least we've figured out ways of keeping warm without having the fire going hot. Things like, wool socks, and lots of blankets. Or, my dad's favorite, vacuuming (well, when one doesn't have to carry a baby around). 

Initiation: Bite Number One

I got bit today. By an Inchman.

I was transplanting seedlings and watering the garden while wearing my Crocs (yeah yeah yeah, SOOOO unfashionable, but mine are Disney ones, so automatically awesome, and also, I was gardening) and felt a sudden stinging jab. Like when you get a splinter stuck in your shoe. And then it quickly got exponentially worse and felt like burning stinging angry pain. Like a really really angry splinter.

I ripped off my shoe expecting a scorpion, even though I'd been outside for a good 30 minutes, and I shake my shoes out REALLY well before putting them on.

Nope.

Out ran a little Inchman, all terrified and scurrying around.

I quickly hobbled into the house with my now swollen toe and half my foot, asking my husband, who was laying on the couch, what I should do. Because I couldn't remember if they were venomous or not, and my foot was swelling up a lot for an ant bite.

So I sat down as my husband Googled something about onions and how they help swelling go down, and he assured me he was almost positive that the ants weren't that bad. And that I looked cute in all my near panicking and was handling the pain better than he expected (still not sure if that was a compliment...), and then I started to cry. Because it HURT. And mostly because the possibility of stepping on a snake is constantly in the back of my mind, every time I step out of doors, so I think I was more panicked and stressed by that thought than the actual bite.

Which is a shame, because I adore being barefoot. Not as much as some people I know, but summer comes around, or warm spring, and I want nothing more than to take off my shoes and feel warm damp grass and cool earth beneath my feet.

I'm scared to do that here just yet.

And it really did hurt pretty bad. Still tingles now, hours later, though the swelling has gone down to almost nothing. My poor baby toe....

And, thank you, yet again, Wikipedia, for some information (some of which I knew) on the Inchman.