A Rattler's Tale

Many of you remember that not too long ago my father tangled with a rattlesnake and caught the pointy end. He has painstakingly typed up his adventures for us one-handed, as he still doesn't have full use of his left hand. If you think of it, please do continue to pray for the nerves to heal...

If you'd prefer to download & read the story, click here, otherwise, keep reading below.

A RATTLER’S TALE

By John E. Peltier

It was south Texas brush country, twenty miles outside of Freer, where nearly everything in the landscape will stick you, sting you, or bite you. With nights so clear that the stars nearly touch the horizon in every direction, and its wild and raw natural beauty, we were drawn there like moths to flame.

My brother Louis and I had just finished setting up the last protein feeder pen, and were driving the jeep to the far west end of the property to check out two game cameras. It was the last day of winter 2007; spring was right around the corner, and so was a five foot diamondback rattlesnake lying still near the edge of the road. I stopped the jeep within ten feet of the snake and it just laid there like one long line. Jeb, my dog, had been snake trained but I commanded him to stay clear as he hopped from the jeep.

While Louis took its picture, I pulled out my Colt 45, model 1911 pistol. “The only good rattlesnake is a dead rattlesnake,” was standard code for this ranch. I said to Louis, “Back me up.” He readied a Ruger carbine ranch rifle with a full twenty round clip. I thought to myself, “I wish I had my small 22 caliber rifle now. That skin would have made a nice belt.” I took aim at its head and squeezed off the first shot – an inch high. It jerked its head back. The sound was deafening as Louis started laying in a few rounds and I continued firing. The snake had been hit several times and started to retreat quickly. Louis riddled its body with bullets before it could move more than a couple of feet. The snake laid still in a twisted mass. “I don’t think we could put together two hatbands from what’s left of this hide,” I said. “Get the camera; we’ll get an ‘after’ picture.”

With my empty 45 in my right hand, I reached to grab the snake behind its head with my left. When my hand was within ten inches of the “dead” snake, it closed the distance between its head and my hand like a lightning strike. “The SOB bit me!!” I cried out. “No!” Louis yelled. He turned and unloaded the rest of the magazine into the rattler. I could feel the hot poison coursing up my arm; the bite area of my hand instinctively entered my mouth and I sucked at the poison and spit several times. It was futile, and I knew I was in big trouble. I scrambled into the passenger side of the jeep. Louis loaded up Jeb and while racing back to camp made a phone call to his son: “Will, John just got bit by a rattlesnake. I need you to find the closest place that can treat snake bites; then do whatever it takes to arrange the quickest transportation there.” By the time we made it to camp, eight to ten minutes later, I was feeling unsteady. “I was worried about you falling out of the Jeep,” Louis told me later.

When we arrived in camp my truck was still hooked-up to the trailer we had been using earlier. Louis unhooked the trailer, threw a few things in the truck and started it. “Where are you going?” I blurted out. “Stay put!” He yelled back. He roared the truck around and stopped one step away from where I was sitting in the jeep. He came to me and said, “Be steady getting into the truck. If you fall, I’m afraid I won’t be able to pick you up.” Together, we transferred me to the truck, then Louis drove as if we were being shot from a cannon. The first six miles were dirt roads. The speed, the bumps, the constant swerving to find smooth parts of the road, and mainly the venom, made me nauseous. Louis, me, and the rest of front cab area soon were dripping with a healthy coat of fresh vomit. With my seat belt attached, I could feel myself deliriously pitching and rolling from that pivot point like I was on a bad roller-coaster ride.

I knew that I was in the hands of God and others. My body was retching, quaking and trembling in its fight to overcome the venomous bite, but somehow my mind was at peace, knowing that I could do nothing for myself and feeling comfort in the hands into which I had been placed. A cop friend of mine once told me: “You can beat the rap, but you can’t beat the ride.” This was to be the ride of my life. When we reached the paved road the ride smoothed, the speed increased, and Louis was driving hell bent for leather. I looked up and we were following a police car. Later, I saw another emergency vehicle’s flashing lights. As we got closer, I could see an ambulance on the side of the road with its rear doors open. We pulled in close; an EMT helped me out of the truck. My pistol was still hanging on my hip. I was surprised at the great effort it took as I pulled it from its holster and laid it on the seat where I had been sitting, noticing the EMT backing off. They rolled a gurney next to me, helped me onto it, securely strapped me in place and loaded me into the rear of the ambulance. The ride resumed. After taking my blood pressure, the EMT struggled to remove my wallet from my back pocket to verify insurance and identification.

The EMT continually asked questions: “What is your name? Are you married? How many kids do you have? What are their names?” Every time my eyelids seemed heavy, she would blast me with another question. Time passed, but I had no concept of it. At some point the ambulance stopped. I saw Louis’s worried face looking into the back of ambulance at me. I don’t remember being in pain at that time. “The HALO Flight is a few minutes out,” someone announced. Soon I heard the old familiar sound of a chopper coming in to land. Memories of my time as an army medic forty years ago and half a world away flew through my mind. I knew that this time the ride was for me. They hustled the gurney from the ambulance to the chopper into the darkness. The flashing lights, the engine noise of the chopper, the wash of its rotors, the police and EMT onlookers, and the garbled barking of radio transmissions, somehow made me feel as though I had entered a carnival midway.

A small, pallet-like bed jutted out from the side of the aircraft, and they elevated my gurney to the same level, transferring my carcass to it as gently as was possible. The berth was hard and one size too small. It rotated into the rear bay, sliding forward and locking into place. I felt like my feet were in the cockpit with the pilot and my body from the waist up was in the EMT work area. Now the ride had gone airborne as we ascended into the cool black sky. Again a cuff was attached to my right arm so that my blood pressure could be monitored constantly. The next thing I remember, I was rolling into a brightly lit room with a mess of faces looking down at me. Later, I discovered I had arrived in Corpus Christi at the Corpus Spohn Hospital. “Are you allergic to anything?” one asked. “No,” I moaned quietly. “ARE YOU ALLERGIC TO ANYTHING?” she badgered. “No,” I said louder. “Are you sure?” she asked again.

After a moment, I replied: “Rattlesnakes.” That drew smiles and laughter, and things seemed to lighten up a notch or two. The tee-shirt I was wearing quickly disappeared with a few snips of the scissors and my jeans and underwear vanished off the ends of my feet. They moved me to a bed and almost immediately I threw-up all over the place. While someone was cleaning me up, my right arm was giving up blood for testing and getting an IV drip which I’m sure included life saving antivenin. I was wired to a monitor from buttons that were glued to my chest. After those first few minutes in the ER my memory faded. Not knowing exactly what had happened in the ER, two weeks later while Louis and I were at our nephews wedding I asked him: “Can you tell me what it was like in the ER when you got there?”

He thought for a moment and said, “I got to the hospital at about 8:00 PM and asked if I could see you. The receptionist called the ER and then she told me to check back in ten minutes.

After about five minutes had passed, a young nurse escorted me to the ER and introduced me to the doctor in charge. Your body was raging and shaking in uncontrollable convulsions. Your face was grimaced with pain. I asked the doctor if he could give you something to relieve your pain and he said, “He can live with the pain, but not without blood pressure.” Then the doctor told Louis that he was giving me adrenaline to get my heart racing and something else to constrict my blood vessels to get my blood pressure up. He couldn’t give me pain killers because they would dilate the blood vessels. Over the next few hours my blood pressure improved and stabilized; then I was given small doses of morphine as I complained of pain. The doctor came in and said, “You have visitors.” I was surprised and happy to see my wife, Janie, my two sons, Josh and Justin, and my brother Stephen. I welcomed them, and then drifted back into the safe haven of sleep.

During the time Will was making arrangements for me, he was also getting the word out to my family. The first person he called was my brother Stephen whom he asked to go tell Janie personally. He didn’t want this message delivered when she was alone. Then he called my sons Joshua and Justin. When Stephen got to our house he found Janie’s cell phone laying on the counter blinking with missed calls. When Justin got the call he was walking out the door with some friends to go to dinner. He told them what happened, then bolted out and drove to our home in Tomball, calling Josh and Janie on the way. Josh later told me this story: “There is nothing scarier than receiving two voicemail messages, one from Will, in a serious voice, saying ‘Josh, call me as soon as you get this.’ Then one from Justin saying, ‘Josh, call me. Something happened to Dad.’ I immediately called Justin and learned that you had been bitten by a rattlesnake.”

Josh had been at a crawfish boil with his girlfriend, Anna, who was a co-worker of Ellie, the daughter of my wife’s best friend. As soon as he got off the phone with Justin he told Anna what had happened and left for home. Ellie, who was sitting across the table from them, immediately called her dad and told him about the snakebite. Her dad, Rich, looked up across the dinner table at our pastors house and said, “Janie, did you know John was bitten by a rattlesnake?” Janie and the boys converged at the house to find Stephen waiting. He insisted on driving them the four and a half hours to Corpus Christi. As Stephen drove, three cell phones were busily engaged, getting the word out and asking for prayer. One of those calls was to my daughter, Jasie, who is currently living in Switzerland. When they were within an hour or so of Corpus, Louis called and gave them the news that my blood pressure had been stabilized. The news was a great relief for everyone and a wave of calmness swept through the car.

The next morning arrived with a nurse poking me with a needle to take some more blood samples. Janie was dozing uncomfortably in a small straight-backed chair and it warmed my heart just to see her again. (In ICU no visitor was supposed to stay overnight. She didn’t arrive until the wee hours of morning, so they didn’t push her out.) This whole episode marked the end of a record about which I had often boasted: It was the first night I had ever spent in a hospital for treatment in my life. (I will add that I was really glad to be there.) My mind was still fuzzy and my left arm was throbbing, swollen several times its normal size, and, as I examined it, it was easy to say it was UGLY. As ugly as it was, I was very thankful that it was still attached to my body and that the prognosis was good. The doctor was concerned about possible compartmentalization that could lead to paralysis and/or gangrene plus the loss of appendages. He paid close attention to the swelling and the next day he did a procedure called a fasciotomy. This entailed cutting three deep gashes in my hand and forearm, allowing my arm to decompress and relieving pressure on my nerves.

During my three days in ICU the care was excellent. I never felt like a piece of meat being passed around a butcher shop. I have a saying about my wife: “If she likes it, I love it.” I felt like Dee, my day nurse, treated all my wants and needs in a similar fashion. Al, the night nurse, the doctors, the vital sign takers, and blood drawers all seemed interested in the same goal: getting me well as quickly and efficiently as possible. During the next three days in a regular room, cabin fever was setting in, even with the great company and playing card games one-handed, I wanted to get back to Tomball to convalesce. The doctor made an extra effort, coming by Tuesday evening to check on me, which allowed for a Wednesday morning discharge.

I’m on the mend and the ride continues. The doctor at the wound center in Tomball told me because my basic health was good my wounds are healing rapidly. The fingers on my left hand are numb and tingling, he says the nerves grow slow and it might be a year before most of the feeling returns.

If it weren’t for technology (cell phones and computers), my brother Louis who brought me out, and his son Will, who orchestrated the emergency team, I might not be writing this story. I learned about an invisible support group that became very visible as this incident unfolded through phone calls, emails, cards, flowers, and countless prayers. I’m sure to my children I had been the picture of good health, independence and resourcefulness. I think they were shocked at the speed at which that picture changed to a person on the brink of death and totally dependent on others for survival. It gave me great satisfaction to witness their response, circling their wagons around Janie and me and standing ready to do whatever it took to shield and protect us. My daughter Jasie kept in constant contact with us and chronicled the events on her blog site and kept everyone updated. Her fear of losing me later turned into anger towards me once my survival was assured; she hated that I might engage in any action that could cause my untimely departure from this life. She soon got over it and I’m still around. I am humbled by the number of people that care about my well being. However, I don’t recommend testing your support group by messing around with rattlesnakes.

The snake was doing exactly as nature intended. And me? Well, I got a taste of what it’s like to be the prey instead of the predator, and will forever be wary of ‘dead’ snakes. I learned that it was not uncommon for snakes to bite after they appear to be dead. They instinctively strike; even after their heads have been removed, I am told they will strike with the blunt end of their body.