Now it's on.

Yesterday was a beautiful day in Paihia. I went to the grocery, bought some hummus for lunch and sat down to eat it on a park bench with the ocean across the street as my view. I had flip-flops on because it was actually a warm day.

About ten minutes into my lunch I felt that familiar sting followed by a nauseating itch.

It couldn't be.

Oh yes. It was.

I decided to not panic. I walked back towards my hostel and bought a cadbury bar on the way.

When I walked out of the store I realized that it was getting harder to bend my fingers, so I went back to my room and took two benadryl, hoping that maybe New Zealand fire ants were kinder and gentler than Texas ones. I stood in front of the mirror trying to decide whether my throat was swelling or not. All I really wanted to do was lay down and finish reading a book about the circus. Then my better judgement got to me and I came to the conclusion that I didn't really want to be found dead at 22 in a bunk-bed in New Zealand...so I got out my epi-pen.

I pulled my jeans down and tried not to collapse into a fit of hysteria. I had to keep my focus so I could jab it into the correct part of my thigh with the right amount of pressure. It only took two tries. It was actually easier than I thought it would be, and strangely didn't hurt at all. I was suprised when I removed it and realized how long the needle was.

Then I walked downstairs and pressed the button to call the receptionist. I pressed it maybe fifteen times. She was a little pissed when she came in and said, "You only have to press the button once."

"I just injected myself with my epi-pen and I need to see a doctor."

"Oh, Ohmygod, OK. Let me call you an ambulance. Sit down."

Come to find out, she used to work for Emergency Services in England. She was very kind and stroked my back to keep my from panicking while I held onto the chair for dear life as the adrenalin started to kick in.

Eventually the ambulance arrived and they took my pulse, which was beating like a mad woman's. This made them decide to take me down the street to the nearest doctor's office.

The doctor kept me for two hours and took my blood pressure and pulse every ten minutes. They tried to get me an epi-pen, but turns out there isn't an epi-pen in the whole country right now! Yay! So now I have two syringes and 2CCs of adrenalin that I get to shoot myself up with, should this happen again. (If it does, I'm just going to buy myself a bubble to live in.)

A nurse from Minnesota looked after me and took me back to my hostel when the office closed. I don't know her name. She listens to "A Prarie Home Companion" to keep from getting homesick.

Now I'm not sure what to do. I feel like I've been chewed up and spat out. It's like every force in the universe is trying to send me home. My body is revolting against me.

Good thing I'm stubborn and all of this makes me want to throw my middle finger in the air and say "Suck it, New Zealand!"

I will succeed here. Oh yes. I will.

Now it's on.