By Mike Isbell
University of Georgia
There was no mistaking the wound on Ashley’s ankle. It was the
bite of a venomous snake.
I’d looked at drawings of snakebite wounds in first aid books
many times and often wondered if a venomous snake bite actually
looked the way it was depicted.
After Tuesday night, I no longer have to wonder. I know.
My daughter, Lindsay, and her friends, Hurston, Phillip, and
Ashley, had just returned to our house after spending the day
at an amusement park.
It was 10 p.m. and Ashley and Phillip were getting into his car
to head home. It was parked off our driveway, near a bed of
liriope.
Suddenly, Ashley screamed and at that moment, a carefree day of
fun ended.
“Ashley just got bit by a snake!” Phillip cried as he helped
Ashley back into our house and onto a chair in the den. Ashley
was in obvious pain and understandably very frightened. It took
only one look at her ankle to know this was not the work of a
harmless snake.
Ashley knew, too.
“It was probably a copperhead” I said, “I’ve killed two in the
yard this summer.”
Copperheads are the least dangerous of the venomous snakes in
Georgia and that’s just what I told Ashley.
“If it was a copperhead that bit you, then you’ll be all
right,” I assured her. “Just keep your foot lower than your
heart and let’s get you to the hospital.”
I hoped I was right.
Medical doctors who have experience with bites of venomous
snakes of the United States do not completely agree on the
details of first-aid treatment of snake bites. What they do
agree on is what to do if you are bitten: go to the nearest
medical facility immediately, stay calm, and identify the snake
if you can do so easily, without putting yourself at risk or
wasting valuable time.
On the way to the hospital I asked Ashley about her family and
the college she attends. Our conversation helped take her mind
off the bite and by the time we got to the emergency room she
was noticeably calmer.
The universally accepted treatment for serious snake bites is
antivenin or “antivenom” as it is sometimes called. But since
we did not actually see the snake, and perhaps because I told
the emergency room physician the snake was probably a
copperhead, the physician chose to simply monitor Ashley’s
reaction to the bite.
I’m curious by nature and wondered how big the snake was that
left those fang wounds in Ashley’s ankle. I wondered if there
was a correlation between the distance between them
and the body length of the snake.
So I measured the distance between the fang wounds with a
tongue depressor. They were on either side of the depressor.
That made them about 18-19 millimeters apart.
While in the emergency room waiting on her parents to arrive,
Ashley said, “My mother’s going to kill me.”
“She’s going to kill you because you got bitten by a snake?” I
asked in disbelief.
“No,” Ashley answered, “She’s going to kill me because I
skipped classes today to go to Six Flags!”
Ashley recovered very well and was dismissed from the hospital
the next day.
Taking my tongue depressor measurements one step further, I
concluded the snake that bit Ashley was about three feet long.
That’s pretty big for a copperhead.
All I know is, I’m staying away from that liriope.
(Mike Isbell is the Heard County Extension coordinator with the
University of Georgia College of Agricultural and Environmental
Sciences.)
