Yes, Snake Bitten in Fairhope

Believe it or not things like this only happen to me. Or at least it seems that way. How many times have you heard someone say “Yes, Snake Bitten in Fairhope”? For that matter I only know of one person that has ever been snake bit.

Sadly I don’t recall any details of when  Renaissance Man had his snake attack. Although I vividly remember the photo of the extremely swollen body part that he shared with Grill Man. Dare I say unattractive image is still lingering in my mind with living color details. Did I mention the body part was so swollen that I didn’t know what it was?

His hand had morphed into a supersized blowup ready to pop former version of its self.  Did I need to see that? Why do men feel the need to share the pain in full color with their pals? Surely, a conversation would have been enough to share the drama. Yet, our men upon receipt  share with us the “Oh my, what is that photo?”   EEEWWWWW!

This reflection  only leads to scary thoughts and unnecessary fear. Except a small dose of fear is probably our brain telling us to pay attention. To watch out for things that may occur. Natures way of handing us a warning sign before we step into some dark scary place. Or in my case, step on a dark scary snake.

Well by now your probably wondering what happened.  Earlier this week after an exceptionally long day dealing with employees, contractors, customers, vendors etc. I finally managed to leave work. Upon arriving home, I settled into scavenging for dinner. It had been a very long day.

Clearly, I felt like burnt toast. Not the burnt toast that you still may salvage by scraping with a knife. No my burnt toast looked like the other kind. Toast destined for the trash because you totally forgot it was in the oven and walked away, for a while.

Next, I needed to let My-Dog-Not-My-Dog out for his evening walkabout. Usually this routine occurs much earlier in the evening, I only mention this because it was near dark when we started. As I started my journey too tired to go, my flip-flops were nowhere to be found.

I paused before stepping outside near dark to walk My-Dog-Not-My-Dog and wondered if I had enough energy to lasso the flip-flops. Burnt Toast said no. We proceeded on our journey and since I was at home nothing bad would happen. In my protected bubble all would be well and soon enough I could lay horizontal on the couch and meld into the cushions of comfort.

Yet, it didn’t happen exactly like that. Now’s a good time to mention that my porch occasionally has snake skins. Living in Alabama, we share God’s Country with rodents and reptiles. Most of the time it’s not a big deal, well until it is.

My-Dog-Not-My-Dog and I found a skin this week laying near the front door. I didn’t get excited because this is just part of nature and creatures live outside. As long as everyone knows their role and doesn’t misbehave, I’m ok. Live and let live so to speak.

Clearly snake skins and conversations about snakes or snake sightings had been on my mind. Night before the burnt toast day, I had  a nightmare about a  huge cartoon size headed snake jumping out at me. In my dream in full superwoman fashion  I grabbed the snake as it writhed back and forth.   Then held it out as far as I could and screamed my full head off for My-Dog-Not-My-Dog like any southern belle would. Then I woke up sweating.

Yes, Snake Bitten in Fairhope

Back to the story, as I tiptoed on the very dark brick path near the fountain, I called out to My-Dog-Not-My-Dog  and continued toward the house. My couch was calling and the sound was getting louder by the minute. Suddenly, my right foot stepped on something squishy and at the same time something pricked my foot.

When I say that I instantly jumped, looked down and saw a brown or tan snake heavily patterned with red or coral slithering away it all happened so fast. My first thought was to run for the hills and then I remembered for a snake bite the Doctors needed to know what kind of snake to give the correct anti-venom.

To pick up or not to pick up the snake

Sadly, I needed to grab the snake and as I paused, it slithered. Instead I ran inside and closed the door. Distance is clearly what I wanted in between me and the snake. Standing inside within my protective sphere I remembered My-Dog-Not-My-Dog. He probably wanted to come back inside so I opened the door and called his name.

As my mind raced trying to recall anything I knew about snake bites I checked out my foot. On the inside edge of my right foot, I found a single pierce and drop of blood. Damn. Lots of things raced through my head including Renaissance Man, his snake attack and  whether or not the snake was poisonous.

Did I need to go to the hospital? How often do people die from snake attacks? Would my foot swell up like a watermelon? How bad would it hurt? Where the hell were those damn flip-flops? As I imagined someone leading me out on a stretcher, I called for a lifeline.

In house snake expert provides counsel

Grill Man was out-of-pocket. My Bonus Child would have to come and check out my foot. I regaled my misadventure and answered all of his questions. Bonus Child was very calm about my predicament. Calm although we discussed the several different type of snakes he had seen on our property. From rat snakes to Copperheads and the occasional rattlesnake but my snake surely was not poisonous.

He was sure everything was fine. “Not that many people die from snake bites” he said calmly. Yes but I didn’t want to be one. “Surely the snake was one of the non-poisonous snakes.” he replied. As if to give comfort he said, “If it’s poisonous  you will know pretty soon when your foot starts hurting and it swells.”

All I wanted to know was whether I needed to go to the hospital. Although a trip to the ER is never a fun day, I would be willing to go if pain or swelling started.

With lots of questions, despite a cautionary warning I headed to the internet. Bonus Child didn’t think I would enjoy reading about snakes . Neither did I but I needed to know what I was up against. Gloom and doom lurked on every snake page. Go directly to the hospital said my inner voice that I typically listen to. The burnt toast in me said no. Since I live so close to the hospital I could be there in minutes.

Instead I moved to the couch and waited patiently for the pain to arrive or my foot to start swelling. For at least the next hour every tingle in my foot or leg sent me into a tiny panic. A cocktail sounded like the order of the day and the burnt toast in me agreed. Apparently if your bitten by a snake you should not start drinking. Clearly this was exactly the one thing I wanted to do while I waited.

 

I waited and tried to stay calm all the while analyzing my situation, Bonus Child’s suggestions and tips from Google-land. Tick tock the time went by slowly as I checked my foot often to look for warning signs. Was he right and it wasn’t poisonous? Or would my bite be a rare snake that lured you into thinking everything was ok and then BAM, I have a big ole’ watermelon foot.

Waiting is torturous when you’re worried or near death. The good news is that the snake bite was not poisonous. Bad news is that he got away. Even now days later I watch wear I step, looking about at what might be lurking and ready to strike.

My-Dog-Not-My-Dog needs to walk closer to me. Into each life some snakes must crawl. Yes, snake bitten in Fairhope. What’s lurking in your yard?