The Sting That Changed My Night
BY: KOYINSOLA BIOBAKU
Images by Winta Assefa
Never in a million years did I think I would get bitten by a scorpion. For me, scorpions were just one of those things you read about in documentaries. But that night in Nigeria, everything changed. It was around midnight to 1:00 AM, and I was at home with my mom and sister, just watching a movie. It was supposed to be a relaxing night, filled with laughter and the warmth of family, but instead, it became one of the most chaotic moments of my life.
As we watched the movie, something pulled me from the couch. I stood up and went behind it, unsure what drew me there. Then, I noticed a faint light shining from under the couch. It was the remote control. Without thinking, I reached down to grab it. The moment my fingers brushed against it, a sharp, searing pain shot through my hand. It felt like a thousand needles piercing my skin all at once. A burning sensation built up in my arm, spreading rapidly. It wasn't just pain; it was as if someone had lit a match and pressed it against my flesh. My arm felt like it was on fire.
I let out a scream, pure panic washing over me. “Mom! Mom! Help! I think I’ve been stung by a scorpion!”
She came rushing over, her face a mix of concern and confusion. “Koyinsola, why do you think you were stung by a scorpion?” she asked, her voice laced with skepticism. She wanted to believe me, but at the same time, she thought it might have just been an ant bite; nothing serious.Then there was my sister. She seemed even less convinced. Her eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, and I could see it in her eyes she thought I was being dramatic.
“You’re overreacting,” she muttered, shaking her head.
But I knew this was different. My entire arm was pulsing, the pain growing stronger by the second. I could feel my fingers tingling, and my heart pounded in my chest. My body was going into panic mode and I needed help.
In a frenzy, we rushed to the hospital. Our neighbour, a kind older man, offered to drive us there. The ride felt like an eternity, my arm throbbing with each passing second. My sister, sitting beside me, still seemed unconvinced, shaking her head as if to say, “This is ridiculous.”
“Emi ko fi ọwọ kan ọ! (I’m not touching you!)” she said, half laughing but also making it clear that she wanted nothing to do with my supposedly exaggerated situation.
At the hospital, things only got worse. The moment I saw the nurse pull out a needle, my fear of injections kicked in. I recoiled instinctively, my heart racing even faster than before. The nurse, a patient woman with tired eyes, tried to calm me down, but as soon as she got close, I slapped her hand away in panic.
“Please, don’t!” I cried out, my voice trembling.
The nurse took a deep breath, her patience unwavering. “I know you’re scared, but this will help,” she said firmly. With my mom’s reassuring hand on my shoulder, I finally let out a shaky breath and nodded. I clenched my eyes shut as the needle pierced my skin. A few seconds later, it was over.
After the shot, the burning sensation in my arm began to subside, though I still felt shaken. The hospital staff monitored me for a few hours, ensuring that I didn’t have any severe reactions. As I lay in the hospital bed, exhausted but relieved, my mom sat beside me, her presence calming me more than anything else.
By morning, I had learned a valuable lesson: scorpions don’t care about your plans for the evening. They’ll show up uninvited, turn your night upside down, and leave you with an unforgettable story to tell. And in my case, a newfound paranoia about checking under the couch before reaching for anything ever again.
But the story did not end there. In the days that followed, I couldn't shake the image of that tiny creature lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It became almost comical in hindsight, but every time I sat down on the couch, my eyes would dart underneath it as if expecting the scorpion to make a return appearance.
And then there was the fact that my sister still didn’t quite believe the extent of what happened. She kept teasing me, calling me "Scorpion Girl" for a while. But I could tell she’d gained a little respect for my reaction after seeing how quickly the pain had escalated. I’d catch her shaking her head and muttering, "I still can't believe you got stung by a scorpion," in a tone that mixed disbelief with a tinge of admiration. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be offended, but it became our little inside joke.
The months that followed were a mix of nervous anticipation and occasional pride in the fact that I had survived a scorpion sting in the dead of night, all while managing to make it to the hospital and get the help I needed. But I still couldn’t help but look over my shoulder when I found myself alone in the living room, glancing under the furniture before I sat down, just in case another one of nature’s little surprises decided to make itself known. And whenever I hear someone talk about scorpions or see one in a documentary, I can't help but smile to myself and think, That’s not just something you read about. It’s something you feel, something that gets under your skin literally. And while I’ll never forget that night, I’ll also never forget the strange, resilient strength that comes from facing the unexpected head-on, no matter how terrifying it might seem at first.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hi! I'm Koyinsola Biobaku , I am from Toronto . I draw inspiration from my real-life experiences, emotions. Writing allows me to express what I sometimes can't say out loud, and I’m grateful for the chance to share my story with your readers.
