Lessons in Snakebite Shenanigans

I watched as river water dripped from my 12-year-old, pooling on the pristine floor of the ambulance. 

Suddenly, I was acutely aware that my attire no longer matched my surroundings. A swimsuit is perfectly suitable, encouraged even, while tubing down a river. However, it can feel a bit awkward when talking to medical professionals who are fully clothed. Was this the equivalent of breaking the age-old rule to “always wear clean underwear in case you get into an accident?”

I promptly apologized to the paramedics for my current state of indecency and returned my focus to the snakebite.

Yes. A snake had bitten my son.

And not only had its teeth come in contact with Cam’s leg, but the entirety of its scaly being had been in the inflatable tube with him. One moment the snake was sunning on a protruding rock; the next minute it was hitching an unwanted ride before making a hasty airborne exit aided by Cam’s other foot. 

I saw none of this. I simply witnessed my boy jump ship faster than Jack Sparrow and frantically scramble up the slippery, rocky Roanoke River towards me like a baby giraffe learning to walk. Like Jack Sparrow.

I anchored myself with a nearby rock and began shouting questions over the babbling water. Yet, my usual babbling son was totally speechless. When I noticed blood pouring from his hand, my questions turned to commands.

“Speak, Cam! Speak! Speak, right now!” 

This went on for several hours. 

No, not really. But seconds can certainly feel like hours when trying to reach—physically and with the spoken English language—a hyperventilating, blood-covered child in the middle of a river. 

A few feet away, he finally managed to Tarzan a string of words.

“Snake. Bite. Copperhead.”

Let’s be clear. If I had been the one with a snake in my inner tube, my soul would have immediately departed my body. I would not be around to tell this story because my paralyzed corpse would be floating somewhere in North Carolina by now. So the fact that he was able to finally communicate with me and to also identify his brief traveling companion is a testament to his survival skills. 

With this new information, I managed to catch my heart before it almost jumped ship as well, and gathered my boy and my nearby nephew onto the only rock that could fit all three of us, while signaling a mayday to my sister, daughter, and other nephew.

Our situation had gone from not ideal to worst-case-scenario in a matter of minutes. You see, our group of nine had just been separated due to the fact that we couldn’t find a way to exit the river. We had completed our four-hour float and had arrived at the location of one of our vehicles to find that there was no access point in sight, only steep embankments with fences at the top. Well, my husband, brother-in-law, and niece had somehow managed to climb both and shouted to the rest of us to take all the tubes, including the one with the cooler and drybag, and continue floating down river to an exit. They would find us and pick us up.

This sounded like a great plan. I was deeply relaxed and, quite frankly, not ready for it to end.

I’ve never regretted a decision more. Relaxation never ended so abruptly.

Turns out, my sister and I, along with four of our kids, would end up climbing a steep, rocky drainage ditch through a forest as we bushwhacked our way off the river, only to find ourselves trapped on a bike trail with a tall, barbed-wire-topped security fence separating us from our husbands, who had tracked our location. I couldn’t tell if the unfolding events were the makings of a comedy or a thriller. Either way, I very much wished to rewind this movie. 

A kind gentleman who was passing on a bicycle informed us which direction would lead us to the nearest parking lot. He even offered his bike, bless his heart. I was just thankful that we didn’t give that heart an attack when our gang of mangled drowned river rats suddenly emerged from the woods. 

With a direction to sprint and 911 called, we made it to the curb of an empty industrial park moments before we heard sirens in the distance. Cam’s leg was now fully on fire and going numb, but the rock cut on his hand had thankfully stopped bleeding. The fact that I had not yet passed out was a testament to God-given motherly emergency instincts. 

While the rest of the crew somehow gathered up all our tubes, belongings, and vehicles, Cam and I found ourselves in the back of an ambulance with several paramedics trying to decipher the bite on his leg. We knew it wasn’t a full puncture, more like teeth scratches really, but when it comes to poisonous snakes, you don’t take any chances. His vitals were all normal though. And soon the burning around the site subsided. So after much deliberation, we were advised to either take him to the ER for a blood test or monitor him closely that evening. 

On the way to the hospital in an unfamiliar town, Dad, who also knows his snakes, had the brilliant idea to ask more snake identification questions. Then he had me pull up a photo of a water snake on my phone and show it to Cam. 

The lightbulb that lit up his face was the most comforting shade of warm light. The northern water snake happens to look very similar to a copperhead. It is quite often mistaken as one, and Google brought more reassurance in stating that one should always call 911 if bitten by a snake that resembles a copperhead. Our ambulance time had not been in vain. But thankfully, these snakes are not venomous. They have small sharp teeth, which can result in scratches that sting and burn like being scraped by briars. It all made sense. 

Captain Jack was going to be just fine.

Alas, our time with my sister’s family, floating a beautiful river in Southwest Virginia, turned out to be both fun and educational. Those are the best types of adventures, after all.

We were reminded that appearances can be deceiving; that if you find yourself up a creek without a paddle, it is important to keep calm and speak words; and, of course, to always wear clothes in case you get into an accident.

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