- Joined
- Jun 18, 2003
- Messages
- 489
I hope the ATS people won' string me by the toes, but this
is a story I've always found particularly amusing (not the injury
itself or the symptoms afterwards) but because of the tongue-in-cheek manner this person writes. I wonder if he's still in the hobby? Does anyone know? I'd love to see more of his writings!
I don't know exactly how old it is, but you can always visit their website to see this and other writings. Here's the site:
http://atshq.org/articles/eggsac.html
Wysi
---------------------------------------
Florida Bites!
In as much as there has been little written in the way of first-hand accounts of human systemic reaction to tarantula bites, I thought I would share my own recent experience with my fellow arachnophiles.
I want to make it clear from the outset that my experiences in this matter reflect only one approach to treatment. Quite clearly, we are in uncharted territory here with numerous variables affecting outcome. No one should contemplate following my path of action if they are bitten at some point, and hopefully this account will reinforce the need for us all to exercise caution in our handling of our more aggressive specimens. Having stated the obvious, here is what happened.
On the evening of November 18th, curiosity got the better of me, and I foolishly decided to excavate a shallow vermiculite burrow constructed by 666, my year-old Hysterocrates hercules Pocock, in order to unearth the specimen who had not been seen for several weeks. Don't ask me why I did this. I suppose it was for the same dubious reason that young boys play with matches.
No sooner than I had pulled back the plastic shelter within the tank, the six inch tarantula bolted from its burrow, scaled the tank walls, and then quickly skittered down my leg before disappearing under the edge of the washing machine. Using a flashlight to locate the spider under the washer proved futile, and it became apparent that if I was to rescue this specimen from the belts and other mechanisms within the machine, I was going to have to tip the washer up on its back legs so that I could explore its innards from below.
Surely enough, there within the bowels of the washer was 666, clinging to one of the inner walls, about 15 inches from floor level. The next 10 minutes were spent on my back under the tipped washer unsuccessfully trying to corral the escapee into a plastic deli cup. At this point, the biblical significance of this spider's name was readily apparent to anyone within earshot who heard me loudly addressing it. After a suitable period of quiet had passed, I resumed my efforts to separate spider from washer, and managed to trap the tarantula between the wall of the washer and the deli cup.
Back on my feet, my concern for the specimen led me to poke and prod it ever- so-gently with my left index finger as it sat in the deli cup. Utilizing what I like to call the Breene Maneuver, I pinned the spider down by applying my index finger to its carapace, while moving my middle finger and thumb into position to grasp the tarantula between the second and third set of legs. Perfect hindsight has told me that this was the pivotal point in this adventure. The frightened arachnid was none too thrilled by my familiar touch, and the spider seized this moment to reward my stupidity and sank both of its 3/8" fangs into my index finger, all the way up to the spider's chelicerae.
The normal reaction would have been to fling the offending arachnid away from one's person while withdrawing the injured hand, but being cognizant of the cost of such specimens, calm prevailed and I decided to attempt to gently place 666 back in her tank. This act of kindness was quickly rewarded with two more strikes, which left two additional punctures before I was able to extract my hand from the little monster's tank.
My left index finger suffered a total of four punctures, only two of which were of any depth. After cleansing and bandaging the now sealed wounds, I became immediately aware of the burning sensation in my left hand, which was followed one half-hour later with a sensation of coldness running down both arms. The best description of this I can offer is to compare the feeling to the chilling sensation of receiving intravenous saline solution that has been stored at 70oF.
The flesh wounds and their attendant pain didn't concern me; however, the chilling sensation in my arms was puzzling. Not knowing what to make of this, and having heard no reports on the effects on humans of being bitten by H. hercules, I decided to err on the side of caution and drive myself to the doctor's office. My physician, perhaps being fearful of a malpractice suit, decided to pass the buck and sent me on to the emergency room, where the learned healers there engaged in much beard-scratching and related behaviors intended to demonstrate a sense of deep contemplation to the patients. It was plainly evident that the hospital's physician knew very little about spider bites, and almost certainly, nothing of tarantula bites.
Emergency room treatment for this sort of thing struck me as being really trivial, but I was equally aware of an advancing feeling of numbness in my lips, cheeks and eyebrows, which I shared with the healers. Instinctively, they knew to rely on proven medical techniques and ordered a tetanus shot, which was cheerfully administered by way of a very large needle, the sort that is usually used to inflate basketballs. This had the effect of reducing pain in the same manner in which striking one's thumb with a ball-peen hammer tends to relieve back pain.
At 2.5 hours post-bite, the pain in my left index finger, which had swollen only modestly, was beginning to subside. The ER physician prescribed a precautionary round of antibiotics along with a Medrol Dose-Pak to control inflammation and sent me home with instructions to avoid handling of arachnids. At 3.5 hours post-bite, the pain to my left hand/index finger had totally resolved, however, those sensations had been replaced by even stronger feelings of numbness to my face, mostly involving my lips, eyebrows and nose. I also noted some light-headedness as well as being slightly fatigued, and retired for the night.
I awakened several times during the night, and observed at seven hours post-bite, the facial numbness had increased and seemed to involve not only my face, but my scalp as well. At nine hours post-bite, the chilling numbness seemed to be receding, but a new sensation was apparent; muscle cramping involving the large muscles along the tops of my thighs, which made rising from a sitting position very painful. My skin seemed dry and itchy, and at this point I took 100 mg of Benadryl as well as some over-the-counter ibuprofen for the muscle cramping. Finally, I noticed feeling quite cold and clammy, but there was little perspiration.
Upon arising at 15 hours post-bite, all of these peculiar sensations had run their course, and except for some mild fatigue, I felt otherwise normal. The inflammation in the tissues around the bite wound was gone, and save for normal scabbing of the puncture wounds, there was little in the way of visible trauma to remind me of the previous day's run-in with the fang-wielding arachnid. At 20 hours post-bite, there is also no early indication of the tissue necrosis usually described as resulting from Loxosceles bites.
At this writing, I have not had time to speak with my physician who may be able to interpret my body's reactions to H. hercules venom in scientific or proper medical terms. It should be noted that I am a six-foot, 240 lb. male with no prior history of sensitivity to insect or spider bites, and that we really have no idea if my reactions could be considered typical. Further, we have no way of reasonably predicting the medical outcome of similar bites where no treatment is given. It would seem logical that the severity of common symptoms may be worse in a person of smaller stature, a child, the elderly or infirm, but again, we have that pesky variable of individual response.
Next time, I may just allow nasty escapees to take up residence inside of whatever large appliance suits their liking. Please don't tell my wife.
Chris Edwards -- Pensacola, Florida USA
is a story I've always found particularly amusing (not the injury
itself or the symptoms afterwards) but because of the tongue-in-cheek manner this person writes. I wonder if he's still in the hobby? Does anyone know? I'd love to see more of his writings!
I don't know exactly how old it is, but you can always visit their website to see this and other writings. Here's the site:
http://atshq.org/articles/eggsac.html
Wysi
---------------------------------------
Florida Bites!
In as much as there has been little written in the way of first-hand accounts of human systemic reaction to tarantula bites, I thought I would share my own recent experience with my fellow arachnophiles.
I want to make it clear from the outset that my experiences in this matter reflect only one approach to treatment. Quite clearly, we are in uncharted territory here with numerous variables affecting outcome. No one should contemplate following my path of action if they are bitten at some point, and hopefully this account will reinforce the need for us all to exercise caution in our handling of our more aggressive specimens. Having stated the obvious, here is what happened.
On the evening of November 18th, curiosity got the better of me, and I foolishly decided to excavate a shallow vermiculite burrow constructed by 666, my year-old Hysterocrates hercules Pocock, in order to unearth the specimen who had not been seen for several weeks. Don't ask me why I did this. I suppose it was for the same dubious reason that young boys play with matches.
No sooner than I had pulled back the plastic shelter within the tank, the six inch tarantula bolted from its burrow, scaled the tank walls, and then quickly skittered down my leg before disappearing under the edge of the washing machine. Using a flashlight to locate the spider under the washer proved futile, and it became apparent that if I was to rescue this specimen from the belts and other mechanisms within the machine, I was going to have to tip the washer up on its back legs so that I could explore its innards from below.
Surely enough, there within the bowels of the washer was 666, clinging to one of the inner walls, about 15 inches from floor level. The next 10 minutes were spent on my back under the tipped washer unsuccessfully trying to corral the escapee into a plastic deli cup. At this point, the biblical significance of this spider's name was readily apparent to anyone within earshot who heard me loudly addressing it. After a suitable period of quiet had passed, I resumed my efforts to separate spider from washer, and managed to trap the tarantula between the wall of the washer and the deli cup.
Back on my feet, my concern for the specimen led me to poke and prod it ever- so-gently with my left index finger as it sat in the deli cup. Utilizing what I like to call the Breene Maneuver, I pinned the spider down by applying my index finger to its carapace, while moving my middle finger and thumb into position to grasp the tarantula between the second and third set of legs. Perfect hindsight has told me that this was the pivotal point in this adventure. The frightened arachnid was none too thrilled by my familiar touch, and the spider seized this moment to reward my stupidity and sank both of its 3/8" fangs into my index finger, all the way up to the spider's chelicerae.
The normal reaction would have been to fling the offending arachnid away from one's person while withdrawing the injured hand, but being cognizant of the cost of such specimens, calm prevailed and I decided to attempt to gently place 666 back in her tank. This act of kindness was quickly rewarded with two more strikes, which left two additional punctures before I was able to extract my hand from the little monster's tank.
My left index finger suffered a total of four punctures, only two of which were of any depth. After cleansing and bandaging the now sealed wounds, I became immediately aware of the burning sensation in my left hand, which was followed one half-hour later with a sensation of coldness running down both arms. The best description of this I can offer is to compare the feeling to the chilling sensation of receiving intravenous saline solution that has been stored at 70oF.
The flesh wounds and their attendant pain didn't concern me; however, the chilling sensation in my arms was puzzling. Not knowing what to make of this, and having heard no reports on the effects on humans of being bitten by H. hercules, I decided to err on the side of caution and drive myself to the doctor's office. My physician, perhaps being fearful of a malpractice suit, decided to pass the buck and sent me on to the emergency room, where the learned healers there engaged in much beard-scratching and related behaviors intended to demonstrate a sense of deep contemplation to the patients. It was plainly evident that the hospital's physician knew very little about spider bites, and almost certainly, nothing of tarantula bites.
Emergency room treatment for this sort of thing struck me as being really trivial, but I was equally aware of an advancing feeling of numbness in my lips, cheeks and eyebrows, which I shared with the healers. Instinctively, they knew to rely on proven medical techniques and ordered a tetanus shot, which was cheerfully administered by way of a very large needle, the sort that is usually used to inflate basketballs. This had the effect of reducing pain in the same manner in which striking one's thumb with a ball-peen hammer tends to relieve back pain.
At 2.5 hours post-bite, the pain in my left index finger, which had swollen only modestly, was beginning to subside. The ER physician prescribed a precautionary round of antibiotics along with a Medrol Dose-Pak to control inflammation and sent me home with instructions to avoid handling of arachnids. At 3.5 hours post-bite, the pain to my left hand/index finger had totally resolved, however, those sensations had been replaced by even stronger feelings of numbness to my face, mostly involving my lips, eyebrows and nose. I also noted some light-headedness as well as being slightly fatigued, and retired for the night.
I awakened several times during the night, and observed at seven hours post-bite, the facial numbness had increased and seemed to involve not only my face, but my scalp as well. At nine hours post-bite, the chilling numbness seemed to be receding, but a new sensation was apparent; muscle cramping involving the large muscles along the tops of my thighs, which made rising from a sitting position very painful. My skin seemed dry and itchy, and at this point I took 100 mg of Benadryl as well as some over-the-counter ibuprofen for the muscle cramping. Finally, I noticed feeling quite cold and clammy, but there was little perspiration.
Upon arising at 15 hours post-bite, all of these peculiar sensations had run their course, and except for some mild fatigue, I felt otherwise normal. The inflammation in the tissues around the bite wound was gone, and save for normal scabbing of the puncture wounds, there was little in the way of visible trauma to remind me of the previous day's run-in with the fang-wielding arachnid. At 20 hours post-bite, there is also no early indication of the tissue necrosis usually described as resulting from Loxosceles bites.
At this writing, I have not had time to speak with my physician who may be able to interpret my body's reactions to H. hercules venom in scientific or proper medical terms. It should be noted that I am a six-foot, 240 lb. male with no prior history of sensitivity to insect or spider bites, and that we really have no idea if my reactions could be considered typical. Further, we have no way of reasonably predicting the medical outcome of similar bites where no treatment is given. It would seem logical that the severity of common symptoms may be worse in a person of smaller stature, a child, the elderly or infirm, but again, we have that pesky variable of individual response.
Next time, I may just allow nasty escapees to take up residence inside of whatever large appliance suits their liking. Please don't tell my wife.
Chris Edwards -- Pensacola, Florida USA
