Snake Charming
10:20 p.m. - 2004-12-21
In the early morning of July 5th, 1995, I stepped out the front door to retrieve the daily paper for my father. Immediately, a sharp, pin-like pain shot through my bare foot, and I shook it vigorously to remove what I thought was a rose branch. Instead, a small snake flew off and landed in a coiled position only a few feet away.
My first instinct, of course, was to scream for my mother, as I�m sure most other fifteen year old girls would do. She was standing in the kitchen, and per usual, thought I was freaking out about nothing. It took repeated cries to finally get her out the door where I stood, hopping on one foot and pointing idiotically at the foot long copperhead who still lay where he landed.
As soon as she realized that I had actually been bitten, my mother started screaming herself. She ushered me back in the door, into the kitchen, and began yelling for my father.
I�ll never forget that image of him--so well emblazoned upon my mind--running down the hallway in only his underwear. He took quick action in getting me into the truck and to the hospital, and though he soothed me while I cried out from the pain, there is no doubt in my mind that he was just as scared as I was.
The rural hospital here actually had some anti-venom on hand, presumably because another resident had been bitten only two weeks prior. After being examined by the doctor in the emergency room, I was sure that I�d be perfectly fine. I casually informed him that I had to be at the 4-H State Finals two days later, so he needed to give me instructions on what to do to deal with the snake bite while I decided on barrel racing strategies.
Of course, I didn�t get to barrel race that day, because I was still in the hospital. My parents stayed with me throughout the entire ordeal, assuring me that my swollen, black leg would eventually go down and look normal again. It took a couple of weeks, but they were right. After a great deal of bed rest, numerous antibiotics and painkillers, and lots of TLC, everything went back to normal.
My father�s best friend�who was bitten by one of his own �pet� rattlesnakes today�wasn�t as lucky. Though he was within walking distance from the hospital, they didn�t have anti-venom, and had to wait on an emergency vehicle to transport him to the city that lies an hour north of here.
I can�t be certain as to what my father�s reaction was when he found out the news about his friend, but I�d be willing to bet that he was just as scared as he was that day nearly ten years ago. He and my mother rushed immediately to the hospital after finding out the news, and have been there for the past 6 hours. What started as an emotional roller-coaster ride�he was stable, then he wasn�t, the venom had been stopped, then spread to his kidneys�ended in an untimely death for a man who I�ve known my entire life. A man who has always stood out in my mind as being one of the most adventurous, free-spirited, devil-may-care people I�ve ever known died tonight, and none of the people closest to him were even granted the chance to say goodbye.
When I was bitten, the first thing that my father and brother did after finding out that I was okay was to chop the snake into a million tiny pieces. I don�t know what will come of the snake that killed my father�s oldest friend, but I do know that the snake isn�t to blame. Anytime that we, as humans, try to tame the wildest, most unpredictable, deadliest creatures in nature, we run the risk of getting severely injured or killed.
I�m still in shock over it all, and don�t know what else to say. I�d like to be able to place blame on someone�something�either for carelessness, or stupidity, or for being an innately evil creature, but I can�t. Carelessness and ignorance may have been factors in the equation, but the man has been dealing with the same snakes for years and years. I can�t fault the snake for doing what it�s supposed to do, either, though I�m angry that it took the life of my father�s best friend. But that�s the chance we take when we gamble with wild animals, I suppose.
Mostly, I�m angry at the hospital for not having the antidote that most likely would have saved his life. I�m not familiar with the shelf-life of anti-venom, nor do I know whether they normally have it in stock, but I�m fairly certain that they don�t. Seems rather irresponsible for a hospital situated right in the middle of nowhere, but maybe it isn�t. I don�t know, and I suppose it really doesn�t matter anymore.
It�s been a long, hard day for many people around these parts. I don�t know when they�ll schedule the funeral, but I do know that the majority of the town will be in attendance. He was the type of man who knew everyone, and had friends in every place he visited.
Still, it�s impossible for me to wrap my mind around the fact that he�s actually gone. New Year�s, the Super Bowl�and all of us who knew him�will never, ever be the same.