The Motivation to Create the Honeybee Sting Pain Index

How do you respond to pain? If you are like most people, you avoid it. If you are Michael L. Smith, you pursue it. He’s a fellow who has intentionally been stung in over 25 different body parts by honeybees.

Most of us, when stung, might wince with pain or have a outburst of the kind of words that caused Mom to reach for the soap for some corrective tongue scrubbing. Smith, however, chose a different path. Instead of grabbing an antihistamine, he reached for his pen—and, in doing so, provided humanity with one of the most unique research studies ever conducted: the Honeybee Sting Pain Index by Body Location.

A Painful Prelude and a Shout-Out to the Schmidt Sting Pain Index

Smith’s study was driven by a scientific curiosity few would ever think to explore: how painful is a honeybee sting depending on where it lands on the body? Inspired by the legendary Schmidt Sting Pain Index, which ranks the pain of various insect stings on a 1 to 4 scale, Smith embarked on his quest to determine whether the human body has its own sting hierarchy. As you might suspect, it does.

Applying a force of will and flair for masochism comparable to those who decide which peppers are the hottest, Smith self-administered stings to 25 different body parts, three times each, using honeybees from a Cornell University hive. Presumably, only honeybees with an advanced education were suitable. The bees, Smith assures us, were carefully selected for their experience and dedication to their craft. By grabbing guard bees—the true warriors of the hive—he could standardize the experiment, ensuring that only the finest, most battle-hardened honeybees took part in the study.

Sting by sting, Smith recorded his experiences and rated them on a 1-10 pain scale, using the forearm sting as a benchmark score of 5. This meant that each additional sting had to be rated relative to that experience. In other words, he had to consciously compare getting stung in the arm to, say, getting stung in the nostril.

The Hierarchy of Pain: Where the Sting Hurts Most

Through the course of his stinging odyssey, Smith was able to determine that not all body parts are created equal when it comes to bee sting pain. To the surprise of no one who’s ever gotten soap in their eye, the face ranked high on the pain index, with the nostril taking the crown as the absolute worst place to be stung. In fact, Smith’s description of the nostril sting involves violent sneezing, loads of mucus, and sheer agony. Coincidentally, that’s exactly the way our date to the Junior Prom described the evening.

Closely following the nostril sting was the upper lip. Smith rated this at an 8.7 out of 10, making the prospect of a stinging slap on the lips something akin to an encounter with Zeus’s thunderbolt.

Then, there’s the third place finisher, which, frankly is fuel for nightmares for all of the guys on the Commonplace Fun Facts staff. Smith allowed himself to be stung — not once, but three times, mind you —- on, well, a part of the body that any half-way modest male would never have exposed to be stung in the first place. According to Smith, a sting in this particular location earned a 7.3, which means that, though it’s bad, it’s not as bad as your nostrils flaring with venom.

For some reason, we draw little comfort from the knowledge that if we ever get stung there, it’s not going to be as painful as it could be.

The Low-Ranking Stings: The Pain “Vacation Spots”

On the opposite end of the scale, Smith found that some areas are surprisingly sting-resistant, or at least not as torturous. If you’re in the unfortunate position of having to be stung, aim for your skull, upper arm, or middle toe—all of which rated a relatively mild 2.3 on the pain scale.

The skull, being the fortress that it is, offers a nice cushion of bone between the sting and the delicate neurons that cry out for mercy. The upper arm, possibly due to its muscle mass, also didn’t deliver much of a punch in the pain department. As for the middle toe—well, unless you’re in the habit of bee-stomping, it’s probably safe.

Why the Difference?

You might be wondering, what makes one spot so much more painful than another? Smith’s research points to several possibilities that affect body sensitivity to bee stings. Skin thickness, for one, plays a crucial role. The nostril, upper lip, and genitals all feature thin skin, which makes them more vulnerable to the penetrating power of the stinger. These areas are also rich in nerve endings, which amplifies the sensation of pain.

But skin thickness doesn’t tell the whole story. Take the palm of the hand, for example. It’s covered in thick skin but still rates a 7 on the pain scale. The dorsum (back) of the hand, which has thinner skin, clocks in at a 5.3. Clearly, there’s more at play than just skin depth—nervous system response and sensitivity in different body parts might also be a factor. In some regions, the brain may just decide that it’s going to scream louder when it gets stung.

Smith also explored the possibility of a pain homunculus, a theoretical map of the human body that represents areas of high and low sensitivity. Based on neural activity studies, the lips, fingers, and tongue are some of the most sensitive areas of the body. While he didn’t test the tongue (presumably to avoid compromising his ability to narrate his experiment), the upper lip did rank as one of the most painful locations. This suggests that a pain homunculus would look rather different from the usual sensory homunculus we’re used to seeing.

The Experiment’s Limitations

Of course, it’s important to recognize that Smith’s study of bee sting pain comparison has some limitations—chief among them, the fact that it involved a single test subject: Smith himself. So, while his findings provide a fascinating window into sting pain by location, they’re ultimately based on one person’s experience. As Smith notes, pain sensitivity can vary widely from person to person, and gender might play a role as well. Men, for example, tend to have different pain thresholds than women, meaning that Smith’s findings may not hold true across the board.

Furthermore, some locations that Smith tested are exclusive to male anatomy, making it impossible to generalize findings for these areas. If future researchers are interested in expanding on Smith’s work (and we’re not sure who would volunteer for that job), they’ll need to include a more diverse pool of subjects.

A Remarkable (and Painful) Achievement

Michael L. Smith’s work on the Honeybee Sting Pain Index by Body Location is a testament to scientific curiosity and perseverance (as well as a remarkable tolerance for pain). His findings shed new light on how we experience pain and offer a glimpse into the complexities of our nervous system.

We should also give a shout-out to the humble honeybee. Each honeybee is capable of stinging only once; the act of stinging causes the bee’s death. As painful as the experiment was for Smith, at least he survived. Dozens of honeybees paid a much higher price for academic advancement.

Perhaps most importantly, Smith’s research reminds us that pain is a deeply personal and subjective experience—one that varies from person to person and from sting to sting. So, the next time you find yourself on the receiving end of a bee sting, remember: it could always be worse. You could be stung in the nose.

References:

• Smith, M. L. (2014). Honey bee sting pain index by body location. PeerJ, 2:e338.

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