When I was three, I could've died.

[conuly]

I got attacked by a whole nest of fire ants. Probably my fault, I have no doubt that I kicked their hill over.

I used to think that I couldn't remember it, that I only *thought* I remembered it because I'd heard the story so much. Then I found out that my Bonpapa had been there, which was part of my memory that didn't make sense - I didn't think he could've been there. But it did clarify that it's a real memory.

This comes up because, a few days ago, my sister refered to something as "being like being bitten by fire ants".

I nodded, then pointed out that I didn't remember being bitten. I remember Bonpapa being there. I remember sitting on the floor of the car, crouched up and crying. I don't remember any pain. Not only can I not feel it in my mind, which is normal, but I can't remember feeling it then. I can remember feeling pain for other times I got hurt at very young ages, but not then.

What happened is as familiar to me as any childhood story. I got swarmed on. We rushed home and called the hospital. They didn't know what to do. My mother thought fast, and put me into a bath with baking soda. I didn't die.

I have marks on my legs, not big ones, like chicken pox scars, which we think *must* be from that time.

And all I remember is crouched on the floor of the car, crying, but no pain.

Comments

[moggymania.livejournal.com]

It could be that you were in enough pain that your brain refused to remember it. There's a certain threshold for severe pain where the brain fails to record any memory of the actual sensations -- everything else going on, even thoughts, but not that particular sensory feedback.

The stereotypical example is pregnancy, since women usually "forget" how incredibly painful it is within a fairly short time of experiencing it. I had it with both bouts of peritonitis: I remember being curled up on the bed trying to remain motionless and wanting to die, but it's almost like my brain thinks I was doing it for no reason.

[conuly]

That was my conclusion. All I can conclude is that it was *bad*. I have very few memories from that age, and that one's the only one I can remember with any sort of clarity - and I can't even remember the pertinant part of it.

No, wait. I also very clearly remember the next year, when I just-about drowned. Again, I don't remember the drowning part, though I remember what led up to it (I was trying to ride on the underside of some floaties, and got tangled) and the aftereffects (I had to get saved). The going under the water bit? Nuthin'.

Sometimes, I'm amazed I survived my childhood, given the things I did to myself. Like the time I tried to get off my bunkbed headfirst. I succeeded, too....

[beetlebomb.livejournal.com]

OWIE!

[wakasplat.livejournal.com]

That would explain a lot about how my memory for pain works.