CANYON COURIER (Evergreen, Colorado) 26 May 05 Woman recounts run-in with rattlesnake, aftermath
The work day was like every other day, long and troublesome. I left work feeling exhausted, yet thinking that I needed to go on a hike. As I drove home I vacillated between hiking and just relaxing at home with a glass of wine. After a lengthy internal debate during my 42-mile drive, I finally decided on the hike.
July 23 presented a picture perfect day for a hike with a clear blue Colorado sky, billowy white clouds and 70 degrees of warmth and sunshine. What more could I ask for? As soon as I arrived home I donned t-shirt, shorts and running shoes, and headed out the door. For some inexplicable reason, I went back inside and grabbed my cell phone from the kitchen counter.
South Valley Park near Ken Caryl has 7 miles of hiking trails that run between red stone formations, the hogback, and open meadows. The views of the valley are breathtaking, and this particular park had been my retreat from the stresses of everyday life for more than a year. I knew every rock formation, every dip, every twist and turn, every incline, and could probably walk it blindfolded if necessary. My hike always started out on Coyote Song Trail, and I would then backtrack on Swallow Trail, an easy 2 mile hike.
I began my hike lost deep in thought. About a half mile into my hike, the rapid cha-cha-ha-cha-cha, the bite, and the pain captured my immediate attention. I jumped off to the left and whirled around to see my attacker. A rattlesnake!
It took a second or two to realize that I had just been bitten by a rattlesnake. I had walked right into him. There he sat along the edge of the trail, 3 coils high, hissing and rattling with vigor and venom. I stood and stared at him in complete amazement. My awe was soon replaced with fear as I realized the danger I was in. Rattlesnake, poison, death.
I surveyed my situation. The tall weeds and grasses on either side of the trail were unnerving. What if there were more snakes hidden in the grass? On the other hand, the trail was too narrow to get past him without another attack. Unlike most situations in life, at that moment, the known was more frightening than the unknown. I took a deep breath and quickly made a wide loop though the tall weeds to make my way back onto the trail. My attacker’s focus was on my every move. And believe me, mine was on him.
Once back on the trail, I stopped about 15 feet away. I tried to study his features. Green, I thought. I noticed his triangular-shaped head with thin strips of gold crisscrossing his scaly body. As I watched, he continued his fearless hissing and the successions of cha-cha-cha-cha-cha were relentless. I bent down to examine my wound. Blood was trickling down my leg. (Yes, you do think of the cowboy westerns where they pull out a knife, make a cut, and suck the poison out.) I squeezed the area around my wound hoping to expel the venom. The pain was instant to my touch and unbearable.
I remembered there were no other cars in the parking lot and realized that I was a lone hiker on the trail. Panic engulfed me. Adrenaline took over and clouded any rational thought I may have had. Deadly thoughts raced through my mind as I took one last glance at his coiled threats and took off running down the trail.
My feet and hands began to tingle as I continued to run; and then, the putrid, vile taste of the venom exploded in my mouth. I slowed as numbness began to set in and my wounded leg throbbed. The pain was excruciating. I stopped and looked around. Nothing looked familiar. Disoriented, I believed I was going the wrong way. Where was the parking lot? Where was my truck? Was I going the wrong way? No. I convinced myself that I needed to keep going on the path. I needed to get to my truck. I needed my cell phone.
Heart racing, I ran again. Finally, I spotted the parking lot and my truck. I could sense the venom coursing through my body, the awful tingling sensation, the numbness. Not one nerve was spared the effects of the poison that flowed through my veins. I called 911. My vision was beginning to blur. The operator answered. I explained what had happened and where I was at. My lips and tongue were numb as I tried to explain my location over and over again.
I was still on the phone with the dispatcher when a car pulled up beside me and a man got out. I asked him to stay with me until the ambulance arrived. “Stay with me please so that they can find me,” I pleaded.
The dispatcher asked me to calm down, to slow my breathing and said help was on the way. I sat on the edge of my truck seat with my leg propped on the door feeling the deadly sensations caused by the venom. I sat there feeling my face swell as my eyes filled with tears.
The paramedics arrived within minutes and as they attended to my wound and hooked up an IV solution they jokingly nicknamed me “Dances with Snake.”
During the ride to the hospital my body succumbed to the poisonous venom as I succumbed to thoughts of death. Am I going to die? Am I ready to die?
After spending an hour in the emergency room where they extracted blood samples, measured and marked my leg to determine the amount of swelling, and took note after note, I finally gathered enough courage to ask the attending physician, who just happened to be a toxicologist, “Am I going to die?”
“No, but you’re going to wish you had,” he said with a wry grin as he asked me to open my mouth and focused a camcorder on my undulating tongue (more effects of the venom) and began filming.
He was absolutely right. How can I describe the pain that followed? The pain I experienced is best summed up in an article titled “Rattlesnake Bite — Treatment or Mistreatment?” taken from www.nsweb.nursingspectrum.com: “Victims feel tissue being eaten away as though an acid has been poured on their skin.”
One of my attending nurses printed the article for me after I had apologized profusely for cussing her out while she attempted to extract more blood. The pain was so unbearable that I couldn’t stand to have anyone touch me. She wanted me to know that she understood the pain I was experiencing.
The nurses were as perplexed as I was about what to expect. They had never treated anyone who had been bitten by a rattlesnake so they went online to research. And, to add insult to injury, my leg and foot had swollen to twice their normal size and were black and blue, foot to groin. Four days in ICU and 10 vials of anti-venom later, I was sent home to recuperate.
According to the same article, “Victims of poisonous snakebite are most likely to be under the influence of drugs or alcohol, adolescent or adult males, children, or snake handlers.” I singly defied all of the odds, not being male, child, adolescent, snake handler (I don’t think so!) or under the influence, other than the intoxicating influence of nature.
I do often think I should have stayed home that evening and had that glass of wine. At the very least, I am thankful for that little voice that said, grab your cell phone.
The incident occurred almost two years ago. But the scar from his fangs (I still envision venom dripping from those fangs), and the memories of the attack and subsequent recovery linger on. I am forever grateful to the paramedics, nurses and physicians for the wonderful treatment that I received, and that I am alive to share my story and some very sound advice from the 911 dispatcher and my attending physician:
• Do not panic: Remain calm and take deep breaths.
• Do not run: Running enhances the systemic absorption of the venom.
• Do not apply a tourniquet: this can increase damage to surrounding tissue.
• Seek medical attention as soon as possible: Carry a cell phone with you while hiking.
• Immobilize the bitten area (if possible): And keep the wounded area lower that the heart.
• Apply a loose bandage (finger loose) 2 to 4 inches above the wound: this will restrict the flow of venom. I recommend carrying a multi-purpose, old-fashioned bandana.
Although it took some time before I gathered up the courage to return to South Valley Park, my passion for hiking remains intact. As a matter-of-fact, I am now a Volunteer Park Patroller for Jeffco Open Space Parks, and I can’t think of a more enjoyable way to give back to the community … albeit, I am now more mindful and alert. And, I wear long pants and hiking boots. See you on the trails.
Woman recounts run-in with rattlesnake, aftermath