After a swift yet blurry walk down the hill to the Clinic on-site, my bloody arm was carefully cleaned and wrapped by the Vet Tech on staff. It was noted that the bite had torn through the epidermal fat layer and just grazed the muscle tissue. OWW! Of course, Murphy’s Law would apply next… The truck to town would not start. It was over 45 minute drive to town to the doctor… walking was not an option. The battery, the water pump, who knows what was broken…
My arm and
knee continued to pulse. Badly. I sat in a state of bewilderment for what seemed
like hours and what seemed like only fleeting moments.
Finally an
hour later, the truck powered up the hill and we were off 15 miles to town (45
minutes!) to a doctor whose name we didn’t know how to spell, a number that we
didn’t know, and an office location that was partially known. After a brief moment of bad news that the
doctor’s schedule was too full to see me, 15 minutes later he had me on the
surgery table injecting local anesthesia, cleaning the wound (moving around so
much flesh that I tried not to look due to nausea, but couldn’t resist!), and eventually
suturing me together again. I walked out
stitched, bandaged, and calm.
The doctor
was by far the kindest individual I have met in South Africa, oozing with
sympathy, gentleness, and in general, excellent bedside manner. He calmed me hundreds of times more than
anyone, or I, could have done. I walked
out without repeated visions of being trapped in that cage, without feeling as
if I was going to die, but instead knowing my arm wasn’t horrendous and that it
would heal. I would survive just
fine.
The next couple of days passed mostly uneventfully. My arm continued to swell, my wrist doubling in size while redness and inflammation moved nearly up to my elbow. My knee developed a multi-colored bruise reminiscent of layers of a rainbow. The doctor explained to me that animal bites are rarely sutured, but my widely ripped flesh would have resulted in an enormous scar. He sent me home with two 5-day antibiotic courses and a few instructions. Unfortunately, by Day 4 our new C.A.R.E. veterinarian noted I had a nasty infection and needed to see the (human) doctor again.
 |
| Three weeks post-bite |
On my
return visit to him with a badly infected arm (which was partially expected), he
gave me 3 options: a) amputate my arm, b) remove the sutures to reopen the
wound, irrigate, and clean the tissue, or c) continue with 5 more days of 2
antibiotics. Hmm… Which would you pick?
In due
(10-day antibiotic) course, i.e., option c), I was finally infection-free and
sutures removed. The biggest concerns by
this point were the wound pulling open after suture removal and the residual
knotty tissue under the skin. Now I can
happily report that the wound stayed snuggly together and the knotty fibroplasia is slowly fragmenting.
Perhaps
what helped me the most mentally and physically in those days that followed,
beyond rest and 2 antibiotics, was that I was in the process of reading The Hunger Games 3-book series. I was wholly immersed in
each of those books, supposing that I had been reaped a tribute and this was
part of the obstacles. If Katniss and
Peeta could survive muttations and jabberjays, surely I could recover easily
from a gashing baboon bite wound. I am
making jokes, but my conscious was seriously calmed reading of much more severe
forms of attack. If only a silver
parachute with miracle healing cream would have appeared! It seems like instead I’ll have one helluva
story to accompany a new scar. Good
thing I think scars are sexy!
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| Piet's NEW sign that stands lone to the other (enter-able) UCT cages |
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