Gary, being highly protective, has been giving me dire warnings about scorpions and insisting that the smaller they are, the more poisonous their bite, with the smaller species being able to kill you, then telling me horror stories about giant scorpions in the stockyard sheds that will still try to have a go at you even after being put in jar of metho for three days. So naturally when I got stung on the foot by a scorpion last night, my reaction wasn't exactly calm and orderly.
It was around nine thirty, and the dogs were barking at The Ghost Of The Old Caretaker or whatever it is, Gaz was out front with the torch and I was walking across the paving to the bathroom shed to get my shoes, when I felt a sharp sting on my big toe, like a bee sting. I knew straight away what it was, and sure enough, there was a good-sized scorpion, tail up, just a couple of feet away. "GARY! SCORPION BITE!" I yelled. I assumed that I was going to drop dead or start foaming at the mouth in paralysing convulsions at any second, but had the presence of mind to seize the nearest handy tourniquet - a sock.
As I knotted it tight, Gaz ran in, grabbed the phone, yelled "DON'T PANIC!" and rang the hospital. "My lady's just been stung by a scorpion, should I bring her in?" "Yes." We grabbed the car keys, yelling "DON'T PANIC!" at each other. "Get the Fairlane keys! Don't panic!" said Gaz, stamping at the scorpion. "There isn't enough petrol in it! I'm not panicking!" I yelled back. "Okay, don't panic! I'll get the Landcruiser keys! Put the scorpion in a bag!" "The Landcruiser's full of stuff from the tip! Am I going to stop breathing? If I die, the internet banking codes are on the laptop!" "Don't panic! We'll take the ute! Jesus it's still moving!" "If I don't make it, remember to feed Smokey! He likes chicken! Where are the house keys?" "No need to panic! Get in the ute! Don' touch the scorpion!" "Oh my god it's still alive! It's trying to sting through the bag! If I go into a coma, there's a pen in my handbag you can use to give me an emergency tracheotomy!"
Still not panicking, Gaz drove at about two hundred km/hr through the bush and we bounced out on to the highway. He even put the ute's yellow construction beacon on like an emergency siren! We got to the hospital and were greeted by Sebu, the Indian nurse and one of my work buddies, who was on night shift. He was very calm. "No, I am very much not needing to be seeing the scorpion thank you very much," he said as we waved the bagged arachnid around the emergency room. "What is the reason for the tying of this sock around your foot please?"
The scorpion bite was quite exciting and all the night staff came in to have a look, hopefully asking if I felt my airways closing or was feeling any other interesting medical reactions to liven up a slow night. Sadly, I felt nothing other than a mild itching where the sting had got me, but Gary held my hand anyway and Sebu put an ice pack on my foot. After fifteen minutes of doing obs it was clear that there was to be no dramatic resuscitation needed, so Sebu had to settle for just giving me some antihistamine and a tetanus shot in the ass, which Gary enjoyed watching. "Crikey! You should have seen how deep that went in!"
Anyway, I woke up alive this morning and spent a cheery half hour googling scorpion facts, they aren't considered a serious bite in Australia, but it was an excellent bit of bush entertainment for the evening, and we learned the benefit of slovenly housekeeping habits, because you never know when a dirty old sock lying on the floor could save your life.
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