THE ODD COUPLE

The right half of my face was swollen out of shape, looking like I had barely survived a MMA fight. Terry’s wrists were covered with red splotches that resembled poison ivy while her legs had multiple skin swellings, evidence of mosquito bites.

“I’m going to the walk-in clinic,” Terry lamented to her Quasimodo-looking husband. “This itching is driving me crazy and my rash is beginning to spread.”

What started out as a pleasant walk along a nature trail turned into a trek of torment.

Last Wednesday morning, Terry suggested we try to beat this week’s heat wave by going to Bestview Park in Willowdale, the starting point of a 4 km paved pathway that runs through a valley from Steeles to Sheppard Avenue.

Terry forgot the mosquito repellant. I forgot the water.

No matter. There were few bugs in evidence and the mid-morning air wasn’t too warm yet. We were feeling energized by the outing, sharing the path with joggers, cyclists and roller bladers.

After thirty minutes or so, we decided to head back to the park. Though it was getting noticeably warmer, neither of us was in a big hurry to retrace our steps.

“Hey, let’s go this way,” Terry suggested, spotting a dirt trail running along the edge of a shallow creek .

“Why not?" I enthused, feeling like Pierre-Esprit Radisson. The rugged path soon veered away from the creek as it meandered east through some thick and bug-filled underbrush.

Whack! Terry slapped my back.

“Just killed another mosquito on you. I thought you said they don’t bother you,” she teased.

“Thanks for watching my back. Hey, this path seems to be getting more narrow as we go. I wonder where it’s taking us?” I asked, my adventurous spirit waning in the now oppressive heat and humidity. Scratches from bushes and tree limbs made me wish I wasn’t wearing running shorts.

After playing follow the leader for about a kilometre, our wilderness journey came to a sudden halt as a six foot chain link fence blocked our way. Beyond it, spread out like a garden of Eden, were acres of freshly cut green grass covering a rolling hill.

“That’s the back of St. Joseph's Morrow Park,” Terry enthused. “What a palatial property.”

I didn’t share her enthusiasm; picking burrs out of your socks can do that. I could only think of the long way back to the main trail. We took it a bit slower, now more aware of the hazards along the way.

We were happy to finally get back to civilization and cranked up the car’s air conditioning as we drove home.

All the while I wondered why my right cheek felt so sore.

Hours later, we realized just how ill prepared we were to take on the path less travelled. Terry started dosing up on Reactine and Benadryl to handle her discomfort while I applied an ice pack to my face.

Now, three days later, we’re still a mess. Terry is revved up on prednisone while my face continues to morph like a shape shifter. Thank goodness that an upcoming family wedding isn’t til next month.

Until then, no more hidden trails for Quasimodo and his rashing Esmeralda.