Boxed In
Words cannot express the pain that brought me face to face with my mortal end that summer afternoon.
The sun blazed over the quiet bay situated between Bondi and Coogee in Sydney, Australia. The main beaches were heavily populated with tourists, and a quieter and more private bay appealed to me. Surveying the beach, I established that it was nearly empty; only a few people were sunbathing and swimming. Perfect. It had been a long hot walk there and so I proceeded to scramble over the rocks to find a place to sun bake and have a dip.
After thirty minutes in the intense heat it was time to cool down; naturally the azure water was too tempting to resist. I tested the sea with my toe and didn’t hesitate to plunge in headfirst. The water was the perfect antidote to the fierce glare of the summer sun. The sky was a deep blue and the only sound was of the gentle hush of the waves on the shore. The tide carried me out, yet it was still shallow enough to touch the bottom.
To free myself of any suspicions that I was in too deep, I decided to stand up. Despite being the length of a car park out and half to the edge of the bay, the sea only came up to my chest. Wading through the ocean was fine until a pain, so intense, caused a fully-grown man to cry out in agony. ‘What was that?’ Silence. The first answer was that my foot had been severed from the ankle.
I must tell you something of the pain. The pain attacks your body at a speed that is so fast it cannot be measured. Already your lungs are paralyzed and your stomach is turned upside down. Simultaneously your tongue is trapped and quickly dries out, while your jaw slams shut and your eyes squeeze tight. Your ears go deaf. Your muscles tense in an attempt to combat the pain; then they release succumbing to its awesome power. Gravity informs your body that it is a force not to be taken for granted. Your heart strains too hard and so with the rest of your body. Every nerve ending alerts you, in the manner most suited to it, that you are being attacked. Only your consciousness works well, or well enough to remind that you are just alive. It always obeys pain. You make rash decisions as fear takes control. You miss your last allies: strength and hope. You are defeated without having the chance to put up a fight.
Absolute pain is life’s only true enemy. Only absolute pain can defeat life. It is clever and treacherous. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. It attacks your weakest spot, which it finds with infallible ease. It begins by sending a lightening strike to your body and then your mind after the damage has been done. One moment you are feeling calm, self-possessed, and happy. Then pain, without any disguise, commands your attention like an emperor of infinite power. However, disbelief tries to deny pain its authority. But disbelief is poorly armed and easily overpowered. Reason comes to defend you; it hopes that by demanding what the cause of the pain is, it will overcome its awesome might. For less than a moment you are assured. Reason is fully equipped at dealing with almost everything; however, it is no competition in the face of pain, and like a dandelion it is extinguished by a colossal volcanic wave of molten lava moving at the speed of light. Pain wipes reason out of existence, and anything that finds itself in its path.
The matter is difficult to put into words. For pain, real pain, takes away your foundation to think as you are brought face to face with your mortal end; memory is destroyed as you are confined to the moment. A second of absolute pain seems like an eternity. There are no words to accurately express the depth and breadth of pain. The least you can do to express the sensation is wince in silence, at best scream in agony.
The warm sea became very cold as it splashed up into my eyes as I attempted to thrash out of it. There was neither time to think nor look; it was imperative to return to the shore as soon as possible. A cry for help was silenced, now pain’s only friends, fear and terror, had taken my voice.
Approaching the shore I looked around me to see where the attack had come from; but there were no signs of anything above the surface. The sea looked perfectly still, perfectly calm. Ten meters from the side, the words ‘Great White shark’ and ‘Jellyfish’ made themselves unwelcome guests in my thoughts. Fatigue and cold forced me to stop and catch my breath. My mouth was bone dry, breath heavy and head reeling
Summoning up all of my strength, I had to find my way through what now felt like glue. One last blast to reach the side of the bay finally propelled me to the rocks. Collapsing, as I scrambled out of sheer exhaustion, I closed my eyes to rest. Under my lids the bright orange light offered no comfort but only magnified my attention to my leg even more. A noise came out of the strange haze of concentrated pain from a scuba diver; “Are you alright, mate?” It seemed the single most inappropriate question I had ever heard. No, I was not all right. A simple reply was all I could manage: “My foot.” Opening my eyes after what seemed like an eon it was a relief to see my foot still attached to the ankle, yet a second glance revealed that things were far from normal. My swollen foot was absolutely enormous. At the bottom of my ankle was a thin red line, similar to what one might expect from a whiplash. The scuba diver climbed over the rocks and sat down next to me. After looking at my foot he started: “Box jellyfish, mate they are killers, you’d better get off to the hospital. They’re pretty rare around here, but I’ve seen a few in the last couple of days.”
I now know that the Box jellyfish are named after their peculiar square-like shape. They are almost completely transparent in water and very delicate. A shrimp could easily pierce their body and consequently they have developed an exceptionally potent poison in order to prevent any foreign object penetrating them. The tentacles are armed with up to 5,000 nematocysts, or stinging cells. Certain chemicals on the surface of fish, shellfish and humans activate these. Contact with only 3 m of tentacles may be fatal for an adult. They are the most venomous marine creature on the planet and can kill more people than sharks and crocodiles combined.
Despite his advice I was intent on leaving the scene and retiring at home; it seemed like the only thing for me to do was to lie down on my bed. I began my journey back, with little attention to the direction I was going in, simply because the pain blinded my ability to think straight. The advice from the scuba diver was now a distant memory; the only constant reminders were the searing heat and the agony crawling up my leg.
After what seemed like hours of walking I found myself at the lifeguard’s station on Coogee beach. There was a queue of people being treated for Blue Bottle Jellyfish stings. The poison can leave a scar; but the sting is only a little more potent than that of Bee. The cue moved in slow motion. When my time came I pointed to my leg and muttered “Box”. Nothing could have prepared me for his response: “You Pommies are all the same. It’s a Blue Bottle sting. Put some tea tree on it. Next!” I hadn’t the strength to argue or explain. ‘Home’, I reminded myself. I arrived at my apartment without any awareness of how I managed to coordinate my arms and legs: I had completed the journey on autopilot.
Searching for something cold in the freezer a bag of frozen peas looked like the best bet. Onto the ankle they went and propped my leg up off the floor by resting it on a chair. It was confusing to think about what to do, I was exhausted and at the mercy of the most poisonous venom on earth.
It wasn’t until a day and a half later of sleepless confusion that the full extent of the damage was clear. The poisonous red line had corroded the skin and muscle, leaving a gash that was about half a inch in width and nearly twice as deep, quite simply it looked as if someone had tried to hack my foot off with an axe. Not surprisingly then it was impossible to walk. My girlfriend phoned the Poisons Unit, but they were convinced that it was a Bluebottle; it was too far south from the tropical waters for Box jellyfish where they usually inhabit. Once again we were dismissed as whinging Pomes.
A few days passed and I was well enough to visit the surgery, the doctor confirmed that only the deadly Box jellyfish was capable of such devastating injuries. I realised how lucky I had been. He informed me that, had its long tentacles wrapped around me, it would be highly unlikely that I would telling you this story now.
The sun blazed over the quiet bay situated between Bondi and Coogee in Sydney, Australia. The main beaches were heavily populated with tourists, and a quieter and more private bay appealed to me. Surveying the beach, I established that it was nearly empty; only a few people were sunbathing and swimming. Perfect. It had been a long hot walk there and so I proceeded to scramble over the rocks to find a place to sun bake and have a dip.
After thirty minutes in the intense heat it was time to cool down; naturally the azure water was too tempting to resist. I tested the sea with my toe and didn’t hesitate to plunge in headfirst. The water was the perfect antidote to the fierce glare of the summer sun. The sky was a deep blue and the only sound was of the gentle hush of the waves on the shore. The tide carried me out, yet it was still shallow enough to touch the bottom.
To free myself of any suspicions that I was in too deep, I decided to stand up. Despite being the length of a car park out and half to the edge of the bay, the sea only came up to my chest. Wading through the ocean was fine until a pain, so intense, caused a fully-grown man to cry out in agony. ‘What was that?’ Silence. The first answer was that my foot had been severed from the ankle.
I must tell you something of the pain. The pain attacks your body at a speed that is so fast it cannot be measured. Already your lungs are paralyzed and your stomach is turned upside down. Simultaneously your tongue is trapped and quickly dries out, while your jaw slams shut and your eyes squeeze tight. Your ears go deaf. Your muscles tense in an attempt to combat the pain; then they release succumbing to its awesome power. Gravity informs your body that it is a force not to be taken for granted. Your heart strains too hard and so with the rest of your body. Every nerve ending alerts you, in the manner most suited to it, that you are being attacked. Only your consciousness works well, or well enough to remind that you are just alive. It always obeys pain. You make rash decisions as fear takes control. You miss your last allies: strength and hope. You are defeated without having the chance to put up a fight.
Absolute pain is life’s only true enemy. Only absolute pain can defeat life. It is clever and treacherous. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. It attacks your weakest spot, which it finds with infallible ease. It begins by sending a lightening strike to your body and then your mind after the damage has been done. One moment you are feeling calm, self-possessed, and happy. Then pain, without any disguise, commands your attention like an emperor of infinite power. However, disbelief tries to deny pain its authority. But disbelief is poorly armed and easily overpowered. Reason comes to defend you; it hopes that by demanding what the cause of the pain is, it will overcome its awesome might. For less than a moment you are assured. Reason is fully equipped at dealing with almost everything; however, it is no competition in the face of pain, and like a dandelion it is extinguished by a colossal volcanic wave of molten lava moving at the speed of light. Pain wipes reason out of existence, and anything that finds itself in its path.
The matter is difficult to put into words. For pain, real pain, takes away your foundation to think as you are brought face to face with your mortal end; memory is destroyed as you are confined to the moment. A second of absolute pain seems like an eternity. There are no words to accurately express the depth and breadth of pain. The least you can do to express the sensation is wince in silence, at best scream in agony.
The warm sea became very cold as it splashed up into my eyes as I attempted to thrash out of it. There was neither time to think nor look; it was imperative to return to the shore as soon as possible. A cry for help was silenced, now pain’s only friends, fear and terror, had taken my voice.
Approaching the shore I looked around me to see where the attack had come from; but there were no signs of anything above the surface. The sea looked perfectly still, perfectly calm. Ten meters from the side, the words ‘Great White shark’ and ‘Jellyfish’ made themselves unwelcome guests in my thoughts. Fatigue and cold forced me to stop and catch my breath. My mouth was bone dry, breath heavy and head reeling
Summoning up all of my strength, I had to find my way through what now felt like glue. One last blast to reach the side of the bay finally propelled me to the rocks. Collapsing, as I scrambled out of sheer exhaustion, I closed my eyes to rest. Under my lids the bright orange light offered no comfort but only magnified my attention to my leg even more. A noise came out of the strange haze of concentrated pain from a scuba diver; “Are you alright, mate?” It seemed the single most inappropriate question I had ever heard. No, I was not all right. A simple reply was all I could manage: “My foot.” Opening my eyes after what seemed like an eon it was a relief to see my foot still attached to the ankle, yet a second glance revealed that things were far from normal. My swollen foot was absolutely enormous. At the bottom of my ankle was a thin red line, similar to what one might expect from a whiplash. The scuba diver climbed over the rocks and sat down next to me. After looking at my foot he started: “Box jellyfish, mate they are killers, you’d better get off to the hospital. They’re pretty rare around here, but I’ve seen a few in the last couple of days.”
I now know that the Box jellyfish are named after their peculiar square-like shape. They are almost completely transparent in water and very delicate. A shrimp could easily pierce their body and consequently they have developed an exceptionally potent poison in order to prevent any foreign object penetrating them. The tentacles are armed with up to 5,000 nematocysts, or stinging cells. Certain chemicals on the surface of fish, shellfish and humans activate these. Contact with only 3 m of tentacles may be fatal for an adult. They are the most venomous marine creature on the planet and can kill more people than sharks and crocodiles combined.
Despite his advice I was intent on leaving the scene and retiring at home; it seemed like the only thing for me to do was to lie down on my bed. I began my journey back, with little attention to the direction I was going in, simply because the pain blinded my ability to think straight. The advice from the scuba diver was now a distant memory; the only constant reminders were the searing heat and the agony crawling up my leg.
After what seemed like hours of walking I found myself at the lifeguard’s station on Coogee beach. There was a queue of people being treated for Blue Bottle Jellyfish stings. The poison can leave a scar; but the sting is only a little more potent than that of Bee. The cue moved in slow motion. When my time came I pointed to my leg and muttered “Box”. Nothing could have prepared me for his response: “You Pommies are all the same. It’s a Blue Bottle sting. Put some tea tree on it. Next!” I hadn’t the strength to argue or explain. ‘Home’, I reminded myself. I arrived at my apartment without any awareness of how I managed to coordinate my arms and legs: I had completed the journey on autopilot.
Searching for something cold in the freezer a bag of frozen peas looked like the best bet. Onto the ankle they went and propped my leg up off the floor by resting it on a chair. It was confusing to think about what to do, I was exhausted and at the mercy of the most poisonous venom on earth.
It wasn’t until a day and a half later of sleepless confusion that the full extent of the damage was clear. The poisonous red line had corroded the skin and muscle, leaving a gash that was about half a inch in width and nearly twice as deep, quite simply it looked as if someone had tried to hack my foot off with an axe. Not surprisingly then it was impossible to walk. My girlfriend phoned the Poisons Unit, but they were convinced that it was a Bluebottle; it was too far south from the tropical waters for Box jellyfish where they usually inhabit. Once again we were dismissed as whinging Pomes.
A few days passed and I was well enough to visit the surgery, the doctor confirmed that only the deadly Box jellyfish was capable of such devastating injuries. I realised how lucky I had been. He informed me that, had its long tentacles wrapped around me, it would be highly unlikely that I would telling you this story now.
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