Of all the thrills that await in the outdoors, snakebite is one you never want to experience.
It happened to me about this time 15 years ago.
While researching my book, Arkansas, A Guide to Backcountry Travel & Adventure, my family camped on Fourche Mountain, in the Ouachita National Forest. We had just the three boys then. Ethan was 7, Daniel was 4, and Matthew was 2. We had just finished a late dinner of chili dogs, and I escorted Daniel to our tent. Dan was in front. I veered out to pass him and took just a few steps past a tree when my foot landed on something firm but sort of spongy. The firm, spongy thing flopped over the sandal on my right foot and tagged me right at the base of the toe.
It felt like I had been injected simultaneously with a syringe of ice water and a syringe of boiling water. I’m only 5-6, but I jumped high enough to dunk over LeBron James.
Dang, it hurt. I snatched up Daniel in one arm and shouted for Laura to get the boys in the van. Naturally, there was chaos as she tried to process what was going on through all the shouting and cursing. We left all of our gear where it stood and peeled out of the clearing onto Arkansas 7.
Danville was the nearest town, about 30 minutes away. I didn’t know if it had a medical facility, but since it was already late on a Friday night, I was afraid we might have to go all the way to Russellville.
My foot felt like it was on fire, and it got worse by the moment. I could feel the venom slowly coursing upward through my leg. The icy hot sensation pulsed in my veins, and as it rose the tissue swelled with intense pain. It enveloped my calf and stalled temporarily at the knee before working its way around and into the thigh.
Meanwhile, I concentrated on staying calm and keeping my adrenaline and heart rate in control. Still, the snake gave me a full dose, and I worried about what all might be in store.
At Plainview there was a four-way stop with a flashing light. The town policeman was parked on the other side of the intersection. At the stoplight, Laura blew the horn and flashed her lights. The policeman cautiously approached and rolled down his window. He looked annoyed.
“My husband’s been bitten by a rattlesnake,” Laura shouted. “Where’s the nearest hospital?”
The cop hyperventilated and gasped an expletive three times. Finally, he pointed north and stuttered, “Th-thth-that way!”
Which we correctly assumed to mean Danville. Thank goodness for Chambers Memorial Hospital. And thank goodness that the emergency room doctor had done his residency in west Texas, where he had extensive experience treating snakebites.
I was 95 percent certain a timber rattler bit me, but that 5 percent margin of uncertainty can kill you when dealing with antivenin. You pretty much have to have the snake with you to be sure.
The doctor said he was skeptical about antivenin anyway, because his experience suggested it was more problematic than helpful. Even though I could no longer bear weight on my right leg, he said most of the damage had already been done and probably wouldn’t worsen. However, the effects of the venom hit full bore around midnight, and I had a very bad night.
I went home to Oklahoma City after a few days. My doctor there also had a lot of experience with snakebites. He wrapped my leg with an Ace bandage in a way that forced blood into the calf and foot area. He said it would speed tissue regeneration. Even so, my entire leg stayed swollen about double for about a week. My skin was deep purple, almost black, to the knee, and deeply bruised from the knee to the hip. For months, that foot could not tolerate hot running water.
I was worried how my employer would react. I was still in my initial probationary period at the Oklahoma Department of Wildlife Conservation, during which I could be terminated for any reason. Missing work for a nonwork-related injury that occurred in another state might well be grounds.
It was actually a blessing in disguise. Everybody wanted to meet the new guy that got snakebit. At a game and fish management agency, it was a badge of authenticity.
Amazingly, when we returned to Fourche Mountain, all our camping gear was right where we left it.
Sports, Pages 30 on 07/14/2013