D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
March 2010
The Deadly Three
Surviving — barely — bites from a black widow,
Apache violin and scorpion.
The other day, I was visiting with a young homeowner and he related to me that he'd almost died. I asked how, and he said that he picked up a box and on the side, very close to his body, lurked a huge black widow spider. He set the box aside and killed the critterette.
Of course, he was exaggerating about what might have happened to him, but he didn't know better, either.
Coincidentally, the Discovery Channel ran a recent program entitled "Bitten," about the consequences of receiving bites from various critters, the worst being the bite of a six-foot diamondback rattler. That story and my friend's incident got me to cogitatin' about my own experiences.
Would you believe that Yours Truly has been bitten by all three poisonous "insects" that habitate New Mexico? I'm not sure if I can rightly call them "insects," so please don't berate me for the mistake.
I've already written about my incident in 2008 of being bitten on the thumb by a black widow spider and the attendant consequences, so I won't bore you with those details again.
Almost a year to the day, in August 2009, an Apache violin spider got me. Technically, according to my research on the Internet, we don't have the notoriously dreaded brown recluse here in New Mexico; they live over in Texas. But it is a moot point, since its cousin the Apache violin lives here and for all practical purposes, the results of being bitten are the same — they are that closely related.
Both sport "violin" patterns on their backs, and one variation has a series of white dots around the body. Most are brown to light brown in color and have a body size, when fully grown, of about one-half an inch.
They are very dangerous to humans. The Apache tends to be a shy, non-aggressive spider and won't do much unless it is very disturbed, which is just the opposite of the much more easily agitated "widow."
I know all of this from my study of poisonous spiders back when was bitten by my own dear "widow."
On the particular day of this most recent bite, I was working on my latest camper and I had crawled under the frame to do some drilling. I happened to look above me and there was this tiny web and an equally tiny spider; right off I saw that it was an "Apache."
I made a mental note to go fetch the bug spray as soon as I finished my chore, and then conveniently forgot about the "bug." Later, I remembered my mission and climbed back under and got a second surprise: The spider was gone! I sprayed anyway.
The next day, about 10 in the morning, I noticed a very itchy, hard, white bump on my right arm just above my elbow. I resisted scratching it for about two hours before I succumbed. When I could stand it no longer, I scratched away, then put some ammonia on it to kill the itch.
About noon, I happened to look down and to my horror I spied a deep, open crater at the bite site. Within an hour the wound had grown into a one-quarter-inch-deep hole that was just as wide! Another hour after that and there appeared two more open craters alongside the first and a third was beginning. I now suspected that the Apache had bitten me.
A check on the computer confirmed my suspicions and fears: hard, white, very itchy mound, and a purple-red discoloration around the bite and atrophy of flesh on the bite itself; the pictures of several victims were very bad. But the info also conveyed that in most cases these were rare and extreme instances.
I then did a stupid and foolish thing: I chose to do nothing. It was Saturday and the VA clinic was closed until Monday, and I chose not to go to the emergency room. Why, you ask? Well, the reason is simple: I didn't have the $400-$500 to pay for it!
By Monday my arm muscles ached way down deep all the way to my fingertips and the site was purple, red and festering. First thing, I was at the VA clinic and they took me right in. That's when Providence intervened once more into my life: The regular doctor on duty was very busy and couldn't get to me. A very nice nurse saw my dilemma and grabbed a visiting doctor to look at me.
It turned out that she was from Texas and had dealt a lot with recluse-type bites. Right off she confirmed my suspicions; it was indeed an Apache bite. I was in good hands.
A dose of prednisone and a bunch of antibiotics and I was well on my way to mending. The open wounds did not fully heal for almost a month and the deep, bone-like pain took nearly as long to go away.
Six months later I have the scars to remind me of the Apache and a very great respect for one tiny little critter!
The third bite, you ask? Oh, that was a scorpion, I strongly believe. I never saw it, but I sure felt it!
It was about 10 or 12 years ago, and I was fast asleep in the middle of the night, safe and secure in my own bed in my own house. My left arm was draped above me around my pillow, and I moved it down to my side. That's when I felt a sudden, white-hot stab of pain shoot through my armpit!
I rolled onto my back and simultaneously grabbed the offender with my right fingers, feeling a small, hard shell. I flung it across the dark room and woke my wife and told her to turn on the light.
We got up and searched and searched for that critter, but never found it. She accused me of a bad dream — that is, until I raised my arm and showed her the big red welt!
By morning my entire left arm and my left side of my chest throbbed in pain something awful.
An attendant investigation of all info assured me that it was probably a scorpion bite and that it would eventually subside on its own in time. That would be the worst of it. So other than a steady dose of ibuprofen and copious amounts of ice to the wound, I did nothing else.
The pain gradually went away, after about three weeks.
I never did find that "bug" and I took everything apart the next morning. By the way, in the 16 years that we lived in that house, I found only one translucent scorpion and it was in the kitchen sink!
And so, I hope I have had my complete share of being bitten by little nasties and there will be no more, especially from larger critters that slither across the ground! (That feller on the Discovery Channel almost lost his limb and his life!)
You'd best believe that now I tend to very carefully examine dark and foreboding places before violating them. Paranoid, you say? You dang betcha!
As always, keep the sun forever at your back, the wind forever in your face, and may the Forever God bless you too!
When not Ramblin' Outdoors, Larry Lightner lives in Silver City.