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A very long, detailed account of being bitten by a poisonous spider...for the 2nd time.
I started off 2016 with an adventurous spirit and a ticket to Australia. I had full intentions of moving to Australia for the summer of 2016. I left Vancouver for Melbourne on March 18th 2016 and I wanted to be away from Vancouver indefinitely. Well, that plan failed miserably.
I finally landed in Australia after a few long flights, and I surprised my older sister, Tori, in Melbourne at my aunt and uncles house. She freaked out and cried loads, it was wonderful. We had two amazing weeks together until she flew back to Sydney and
then back to Vancouver (she was finishing up school in Australia and on her way back to Canada anyway). When she left, I stayed in Melbourne for another week then I flew to Indonesia. I had a good friend traveling through Asia who invited me to come join her, so I did. I was planning on staying in Bali for a month then head back to Melbourne. I did travel around Indonesia (Bali, Gili islands, even Lombok) for 3 crazy cool weeks until, unfortunately, I got very sick. I had symptoms similar to Dengue fever but I didn't have that sickness specifically. Dengue affects your blood count and can mess with your brain. I had all the symptoms but my blood was fine (thank the good Lord). Fainting, fever, vomiting, cold sweats....oh man it was nasty.
I originally got very sick in Uluwatu, which is small surf town in the south of Bali. I had some friends staying with me at this villa with a beautiful pool that was close to the beach. I woke up one night terribly sick, hoping I could just sleep it off. I was very wrong. I woke up the next morning and boy was it bad. I was vomiting, shaking and i would faint every time i tried to stand. I didn't have an appetite and i had a very hard time digesting food properly. I was in this state, in Uluwatu, for about 3 days.
Cool side note- a producer of survivor was staying at the same villa as us so my friend met him and they talked over dinner. I didn't meet him because i was on death's door. alas.
After a few days my friend and I decided to call a cab and head north to Canggu. I flung my half dead body into and we embarked on the hour and a bit taxi ride.
In Canggu, I knew about this amazing pizza place that also, randomly enough, had rooms for rent. I had stayed there in my previous trip to Asia with my high school friends. My days in this room were mostly filled with trips to the bathroom and "Kimmy Schmit" on Netflix. My friend, Alex, would occasionally leave and go to the beach to watch the professional surfers or she would go out to buy me a plain pancake. That seemed to be the only thing could even think about digesting. She took care of me well during this time.
I was getting better day by day but i was still super withered. My spandex shorts were starting to fall off me( let this be a visual representation of how much weight i had lost in 6 short days...screw fad diets, dengue is the best diet in town). Finally after about 6 or 7 days I woke up feeling better. I wasn't anywhere close to 100% but I felt better, which was huge. On this day I noticed a small bite on my stomach. It didn't seem like anything serious at the time, just kinda annoying.
The next day i woke up and my sickness was nearly gone. Don't get too excited though, my little spider bite was now a larger red splotch on my stomach that was very painful to touch. It didn't have a head, which was concerning. Alex and i went to the clinic to let a doctor check out my new growth. By now it was super painful, very annoying and it ticked me right off. I went to the doctor and they confirmed it was a poisonous spider bite and a really bad infection. They gave me antibiotics and to told me to go home.
Alex and I then changed hostels to one in Seminyak, closer to the clinic. So now we are in Seminyak, I've had this bite for 2 days, I have 5 days of antibiotics and Alex leaves for Singapore tomorrow. This was starting to get interesting.
The next day i woke up and the bite was worse. The antibiotics were doing nothing and i was in so much pain. By now, I had a little purple volcano on my stomach with the large area around it being beat red. Still, no head. so still, very concerning. I sent pictures to my mum who told me to ask the doctor to open it. She said draining it would ease the pain. With my defective antibiotics and my mum's advice, Alex and i went back to the clinic.
Side note- the clinic was 20 minutes away and Alex wasn't comfortable driving a motorbike through the city, so i drove. I could hardly sit up straight, Alex jumped on the back with the directions and we biked to the clinic.
The doctor there, whom was a different doctor then the previous day, told me the infection was pretty bad, as if i didn't already know that. They stuck a needle in the tip to see if they could open it. Only blood came out which confirmed one of my fears. The infection and venom were going deeper and deeper into my abdomen instead of being rejected by my cells. If they opened it now i would lose too much blood by the time they got to the root of the infection and I wouldn't make it. The doctor told me I either would die (as many people do with this kind of bite) or I had to wait for my body to reject the venom, before they could open it. Still, opening it would be very risky.
I was told to finish my antibiotics before I came back. I was in so much pain already so this was very hard to hear. I remember breaking down just outside the clinic not sure what to do. I stood there crying and praying. I think this is when i really started to get freaked out.
Alex left for Singapore that evening so i checked myself into m boutique hostel where i could suffer in peace. The next day (or even two days) were the most painful and potentially scariest days I've ever lived through. I was now four days into this bite, and i was almost immobile. I was alone and i wasn't eating much because i was in so much pain. The painkillers, I was convinced, were placebos or sugar pills because they weren't doing anything. The bottle was entirely Balinese and the only English words were "pain relief". The antibiotics didn't seem to be making a difference either. The bite was now a painful purple mountain with the diameter of a Nalgene water bottle.
My entire stomach was fire red and rock hard to touch (not because of my abs...hardy har har) I was exhausted, weak, and in overwhelming pain. I could successfully hide the bite under some gauze and a large Tshirt so the other travelers in my hostel must have been super confused by me. Maybe they thought my travel companion had to go home or i was just on some super depressing, loner backpacking trip. either way, i remained a mystery.
Day 4, all in all, was probably the worst. By the time i went to bed i promised myself i would go to the hospital the next morning regardless of what it looked like. That night, at 2 am, i woke up in excruciating pain, unable to breath properly and having a super hard time moving. I went to the washroom and put some antibiotic cream on what seemed to be the "tip". I covered it back up with gauze and returned to bed. I laid awake for quite some time, having a hard time falling asleep because of the pain. I texted my mum in the middle of the night to let her know how bad it was. she told me to try to get some rest and go to the hospital in the morning.
Eventually i fell back asleep and woke up just past 7 am. I was laying in my little shoot bed with my covers over me and i looked at my phone to text my mum. She texted, "how does it feel this morn". I read her text, turned on the light and removed my covers to find it had exploded in the night! The gauze i had put on in the middle of the night was covered in blood, pus and thick black infected skin cells. I told my mum that i didn't want to deal with it myself. I wanted to leave it the way it was and go to the hospital so the nurses, with the proper sterile equipment, could clean it. My own nurse mum had other plans. She wanted me to change the dressing and see if anything oozed out as i started to move around. i was grossed out and skeptical but i took my little medical bag and went into the bathroom stall
* WARNING: what happens next is graphic and gross. reader discretion is advised*
I went into one of those wheelchair stalls so i could hang onto the metal bar that is connected to the wall. I stood, facing the door, holding myself up with the metal bar and slightly slouched over the garbage can. I chose this stance strategically so that when i removed the gauze i could just drop it into the garbage and any blood would just drip into the garbage as well. Well, im glad i was above the garbage because once i removed the gauze i started to pour. I was like a faucet that wouldn't turn off. I had a dime sized hole in my stomach that i was thick bloody pus and dark dead skin cells were pouring out of. After what felt like forever the flow kinda slowed down so i wrapped my right hand in toilet paper, while still holding the bar with my left hand, and pushed above the hole. before i knew it, i started to pour again. I wasn't sure if i was gonna drain my whole body, right then, right there. I pushed below the hole and a thick black lump squished out. It was still attached to something on the inside so it just kinda hung there. Through this entire experience i think i was in shock. I wasn't sure what was happening or how to process it in my mind. I wasn't necessarily scared because i was in shock. I went into emotion-less robot mode. I soon cleaned myself up and headed to the hospital.
When i showed up to the hospital i knew the drill. I would need to show my passport, fill out a few forms and wait for the nurses or doctors to call me in. What i didn't know was, while i was in the cab with my little backpack on my lap, my hole continued to drain and my shirt was now all bloody. By the time i walked into the hospital it looked like i had been shot. Right away, i had a few nurses running towards me asking me what had happened. Either i was about to pass out, delusional or just cool as a cucumber, but i said in a very calm tone "i think im okay i just need to see a doctor". The nurses rushed me in the doors and put me in one of the beds to wait for the doctor.
Now this wasn't any normal hospital bed, this was a summer camp mattress covered in plastic and slightly elevated off the floor. Definitely not the most glam but welcome to Kasi Ibu Bali hospital. It was now about 8 am and I was laying in this bed waiting to see a doctor. The hospital had wifi that would turn on and off. I could, when getting a good spout of wifi, text my parents and tell them what was going on. I waited about 30 minutes before the doctor arrived. He spoke little English and walked up to me right away. He took a good look at my stomach and put on a glove. what he did next made me want to plot his death. He tensed up his fingers in a straight line and pushed on my far obliques(near my hips). He pushed hard enough that he created about a 1.5 inch divot. He then kept the pressure on my far side and slid his fingers across my stomach laterally, DIRECTLY OVER MY HOLE. wow, i thought i might have passed out from the pain at that point. Why he did that? I'll never know. He then left for 5 minutes and came back with a sheet of paper. He explained to me in broken English that he wanted me to see a surgeon. He needed my permission because it was gonna cost me $200 just to see a specialist. I was worried about the money but i also didn't care. I wasn't sure if i was gonna die from this, so $200 really wasn't much.
The surgeon needed to drive from the other side of town so i laid there, on this super crunchy plastic for another 2 hours. Finally the surgeon arrived, pushed ever-so-gently on my stomach and mumbled something in Balinese. I found out, shortly after, he didn't speak any English. Any communication between myself and the surgeon was through a nurse who spoke terrible English (this just made it all more interesting). A nurse came over and explained to me that the surgeon wanted to do surgery on me later that afternoon (at about 6 pm). This is when i really started to freak out. I wasn't sure what i expected but just to hear the word "surgery" made it more real, more intense, more life threatening? i was in a third world country for Pete's sake!
i remember calling my dad at this point and breaking down. I cried to him over the phone explaining how scared i was. My dad, the gentle man he is, kept me calm and asked how much it would be. He then got in touch with my medical insurance to see if they could pay for it directly. This seemed like a good option and it eased some of my stress. What i didn't know was, this was gonna be a huge, long process. I ended up laying in this crunchy hospital bed for a total of 12 hours, in pain, crying on and off waiting to see if i could have surgery or not. The nurses couldn't touch me or give me food because they didn't know if i could successfully pay for it. Finally, just after 8 pm all the insurance went through and i was getting prepped for surgery.
I was given an IV right away and a nurse helped me get into this super cute dark green hospital gown with my bare tush hanging out (good thing i just came from dengue, my butt was TIGHT). At this time, back in Canada, my dad was trying to get a hold of our family friends, Dave and Tracy, whom live in Bali. He updated them on my situation and let them know about my surgery. They only lived about 45 minutes away.
At 8:30 that night i went in for surgery. This was my first surgery so this was a very new experience for me. I had never stayed a night in a hospital bed, i had never been on morphine, i had never been put to sleep. The doctor could tell i was pretty freaked out (probably due to the amount i was praying! i was about to get cut open in Bali- give me a break).
What felt like a blink later, I was awake with Tracy right by my side. I was so confused, i thought they didn't do the surgery. "What happened" i said to the nurse, "why didn't they do the surgery?".
"Oh they did" she replied, "you were asleep for about 2 hours". Okay, that was wild.
Tracy and Dave sat with me for about 30 minutes and brought me some food. I was starving by this point. It was about 11 pm and i hadn't eaten since the dinner the previous night. They left and I went to sleep in my hospital room. The room i stayed in was actually pretty nice. Not many people on my floor so it was very quiet, and the nurses were always ready to help me. I had a cool automatic reclining bed with a small couch, a TV and a little bathroom in the corner. My days were filled with stalking people on Instagram, attempting to speak sign language to the nurses, Netflix on my tiny phone (its a Iphone 4) and watching the two channels i had on TV. One, Asia's Next Top Model on repeat (i watched the entire season at least 3 times. I was kinda bummed Tawan won, i was rooting for Patricia the whole time), and the other channel was 6 music videos on repeat. Now this wouldn't be so bad except the picture and audio were about 3 seconds off. It was just irritating to watch, so back to Asias next top model.
The surgery, i was told by a nurse translating for the surgeon, was more intensive then they thought. They had to remove infected skin cells, fat cells and muscle cells. "Free Liposuction!?" i laughed, i was happy, they were just confused. I ended up staying 5 nights, 6 days in hospital. everyday getting iv antibiotics, morphine, and lots of pain killers (ones that actually worked). Every morning a nurse would come into my room with a large beautiful menu of Indonesian food. She would ask me to chose my meals for the day. The IV antibiotics i was on were so strong and made me very sick. I wasn't interested in some complicated dish. I always just asked for a plain pancake or an egg. The nurse would keep offering me mie goreng or bahme, sometimes i just agreed because i felt bad.
Everyday the surgeon would come into my room, take off the bandage and take a good look at the stitches. He wanted to make sure i was healing properly and the infection wouldn't come back. The first time he removed my bandage was the day after surgery. The stitches looked, well okay, and the infection was gone. hopefully.
The following six days could have been a year from how it felt. There's only so much small, cute, Asian Tyra Banks you can watch before you get bored. I had decent wifi in my room so that was a huge plus. I think if i didn't have wifi, my mum would've flown straight to Bali. It was nice i could talk to her a few times a day and keep her updated. I was able to snap pictures of my freaky shots, keep updated with my parents and talk to my friends back at home.
Tracy and her daughter came and visited me one day. They even brought me a bag of chocolate and some bananas. How they knew my weakness without me telling them? ill never know. Tracy helped me get out of bed and walk down the hallway. My mum told me to get my blood flowing so it was nice to go on a little 20 foot adventure. This was the first time i had walked in about 10 days. Remember i was super sick before surgery? my body was super wrecked. Also, huge bonus, Tracy spoke Balinese! She could ask the surgeon all of my questions and i could get a real answer, this was a huge blessing!
One night i remember texting my mum at 1 am because i couldn't sleep. It wasn't that i couldn't sleep, or that i was in pain, it was that my hair was so itchy because of how greasy it was. I hadn't washed my hair in over a week. I would say i hadn't "showered" in over a week but that would be slightly inaccurate. Everyday in hospital, a nurse came into my room and wiped down my whole body with baby wipes. Each wipe for a different body part. This was both weird and interesting. The night that my hair was greasy was a new adventure. I pushed my little button next to my bed to get a nurse to come help me. I explained to her that i needed to wash my hair. She sort of understood what i was saying. She helped me get into this weird fabric sack that suspended from the ceiling. It carried me into the shower where i was moved onto a shower chair to be washed. I felt like a rag doll as she washed my hair while hanging out in this shower chair. No shame. Finally, i had a clean head and i could sleep.
After five hard nights, six long days, endless bad music videos later, i was released from hospital in a cute wheelchair. I waited in the lobby for Dave and Tracy to arrive. I stayed at their house for the night and flew out to Melbourne the next day, where i would meet my mum. Eventually Dave and Tracy showed up and i headed to their place. I had a good sleep there and went to the airport the next morning. I was finally on my long journey home!
