No Cruise For You

“Yeah, I can do that; that is providing they’re interested.”

“I’m sure most of them will be, after all, we have so many newbies.”

That’s how it began. No, let me backtrack a bit more.

We love to fish and spend as much time on the water as possible. It annoyed my husband each October when, because of harsh fall and winter weather, we were forced to put our boat in storage until the spring.

Our boat was a 22’ Mako with an open, center console. There was no excaping the elements winter would throw at us. As soon as the weather became too cold to take the boat out, we’d haul it to our backyard where it sat under a tarp until the weather warmed. My husband frequently commented that he could hardly wait to move to Florida where he could fish every day of the week.

It seemed like time and weather were on their own schedules and before we could count the days, we put our house on the market. The sign was in our front yard for two days when our doorbell rang. Upon opening the door, I noticed a couple standing on our “Welcome” doormat and they said one word: “SOLD”

We packed what we wanted, gave our grow children what they asked for, sold other things at our yard sale, and donated the rest.

The house, now empty, sat as we drove away, waiting for the new owners to take up occupancy. We were on our way to sunny Florida.

Fast forward a few months.

We joined a local fishing club and because of our enthusiasm, found ourselves with many friends and donating some of our free time to work at a few positons on the board.

The club had a number of social events throughout the year and one was the annual picnic.

Due to the voilence of our summer storms, we didn’t get to fish every day as we had planned but we fished at least every week.

Here is where our live in Florida gets interesting.

My husband decided to surprise me for my birthday and purchased two tickets for a five-day cruise. I was thrilled. Then, the unthinkable happened.

Our fishing club was planning one of their picnics and asked my husband if he’d be willing to teach other newbies how to efficiently throw a cast net.

At the next club meeting, the president posted every event we were planning on a board with a sign up sheet. If a member was interested, all he (or she) had to do was sign the page.

Without going into all the activities planned, I’ll just tell you about the one my husband agreed to demonstrate: fish net casting.

Wait, let me backtrack a wee bit and tell you about bait. That will help you understand cast netting.

When fishing, you can use artificial lures plastic devices often molded to look like fish and adorned with hooks), cut bait (fish you caught and cut in pieces to entice fish to bite your hook) and, live bait (which are small fish used primarily for fishing). The live bait are so small, they really are only good to use as bait. You can’t eat them.

That said, my husband volunteered to demonstrate the proper way to cast a net. For demonstration purposes, he’d be casting on grass and not in the water. (After all, it was a picnic.)

The alloted time for his demonstration was about half over when he looked at me as he rubbed his finger. “Something bit me.”

Within a few minutes, there was a small blister on his finger.

I said, “It looks a fire ant bite. I have antibiotic cream and a bandage in my bag.”

The afternoo ended with no other incidents.

That was on a Sunday afteroon.

By Monday morning, his finger was black and crusted.

“Holy crap!” I almost screamed. “That was NO ant bite. That’s a spider bite.”

I called our doctor and he advised my husband to get to his office immediately. My husband was given a heavy-duty antibiotic cream and oral medication.

Tuesday morning, his finger began to swell – and fast! It was close to being twice its normal size.

We soaked his hand in ice.

By Wednesday moring, we noticed red streaks spreading from the bite area up his hand to just above his wrist. I called the doctor. He said to doube the antibiotic beginning immediately.

Thursday morning around ten, my husband noticed a few lumps in his armpit. Not good. I called the doctor. “Get him right to the hospital. I’m calling them to alert them to his arrival.”

They were expecting us.

“Since we have no idea exactly what’s going on, we’ll be treating him as if it’s MRSA.”

He was to be given an IV drip of Vancomycian every 12 hours. Each IV was a 90-minute session.

I calculated the timeline. He’ll begin his IV at noon. By midnight, on Thursday, he’ll have his second round of Vancomycian. By noon on Friday, he’ll be done! Yippee. Our cruise, my birthday gift was scheduled to begin that Sunday afternoon.

The doctor heard us talking about it and entered our little cubical.

“Uh, sorry so be nosy but I heard to talk about going on a cruise? I’m sorry but that’s not going to happen. He’s being admitted and since we don’t know what infection he has, he won’t be released until we know and can treat it.”

My husband was in the hospital for four days and finally, that Sunday night around nine (the hospital staff hadn’t realized I was still there or they would have told me that visitig hours were over), the infectious disease doctor walked in the room.

“Oh, good, you’re still here.” He formed his hands into fists, raised them over his head and let out a quiet but elated, “WHOO HOO! I got it!”

Then he got serious.

“He has a bacteria called Nocardia Brazilliansis.”

I looked at thim as if he were an alien from another planet.

“He has WHAT and can you write than down?”

The bacteria found in dry soil can only be transferred through an open wound. When my husband picked up the cast net from the ground, the spider bit him and the bacteria from the sandy dirt that was on his body, transferred to the open wound.

Once the doctor knew what the problem was, my husband was released the next afternoon with a handload of oral meds that he’d need to take four times a day for the next six months. It took three full years for his finger to return to its normal size.

We never did go on a cruise. At least not for ten years. I just kept thinking that whenever we tried to plan a vacation, something always happened so I put off making any plans.

I didn’t want to hear another doctor saying, “Sorry, no cruise for you!”