I’ve been locked down in my house for 6 weeks now. I had to check the calendar to be certain, because 6 weeks feels like a minute and also, like forever. In that time, I’ve been to the grocery store twice, the drive-thru pharmacy at Walgreens twice, Jersey Mike’s twice, and the emergency room once. Not for virus symptoms, but for a teeny tiny kitten bite on my left hand. The kitten, presumably feral, was trapped in the engine compartment of a Ford Explorer. I didn’t think twice about reaching right in and extricating the poor thing. It’s not like I was going after a baby raccoon or fox or possum. It was a kitten. A bitty little creature, but one with needle-sharp teeth and a taste for B-positive. Within a couple of hours that finger was swollen, painful, dark red, and hot to the touch. The teledoc advised me to quarantine the kitten and take the antibiotic she’d just called in. But the kitten, wily and wild, was long gone and it was late at night. “Rabies is almost always fatal, “ the teledoc said. “You must go the ER right now.”
The ER is always a wild time and never more so than during a global pandemic. I know, because I’d just been to the ER with my toddler niece two days before our county went to shelter-in-place. On that visit, I stood behind a gentleman who was sweating, grey-faced, and vomiting into a plastic bag. I quickly backed up and into the person behind me who had whatever was left of his arm swathed in a bloody towel. I’m not squeamish, but I’m definitely a little germ phobic, and being in the middle of that gruesome human sandwich was not awesome. Way worse for both of them, but still. The thought of going back to the ER right smack in the middle of the COVID-19 crisis to be treated for a kitten bite of all things just felt insanely risky. Yet there was apparently no other choice. Everything I knew about rabies came from Old Yeller and I guess I just assumed they’d found a treatment or a cure for it. Uh, no. No cure. And according to the internet, not much treatment either.
So off we go to the ER, face masks and all. I was expecting some sort of pandemonium straight out of a disaster movie, a long wait, and 20 big needles stabbed straight into my stomach. Why? Because I am an American and that is apparently what we all learned about rabies in childhood. Progress has been made though, and instead of 20 long needles in your stomach, you get 4 in your arms, 2 in your legs, and a bill for the vaccine that will make you snarl and foam at the mouth even worse than the rabies might have. But, as my teledoc said, “Expensive, yes, but you will be alive.” True. Thinking my health insurance should adopt this as their slogan. Anyway, the whole ER experience was fast, efficient, friendly, and painless. Healthcare workers are the best humans we have and it makes me crazy to think of anyone putting these selfless rockstars at any additional risk.
But whatever happened to the ferocious beast that bit me? She/he is being lured into captivity right now by my daughter-in-law, Leah. The rabies shots will probably have been for nothing, but the alternatives were all worse, right? And now I can volunteer at a shelter or maybe work up a raccoon wrestling act and take it on the road. Check out the pic below – Kevin’s son Andrew introducing the savage monster to their dog, Winston.
Hope YOUR quarantine experience has been a little less dramatic…
Love your kitten story. I also had a kitten (one I had just adopted from a shelter with all shots) and I forgot kittens think humans are trees in shorts. So this sweet, loving kitty climbed up my leg and clawed right into my knee incision. I’m recovering from TKR so off I went to the ER and so embarrassed. It all ended well but costly
I fetched a feral kitten from the engine compartment of my car after a 45 mile ride. We named her “Blister” and she lived with us for 17 years…those feral kittens are a tough breed. Several years later my daughter and I ended up needing rabies treatment after we broke up a shuffle between our golden retriever and a raccoon. We didn’t have the heart to trap the raccoon, needless to say we needed shots and a wad of cash! Be well Sheri❤️
Love your kitty story! Sorry you had to go thru the rabies shots. A few years ago my parents had a stray show up at their house. My Momma fed it for about 2 wks. It was friendly and would let Momma pet him or her. One day my Daddy decided to see if the kitty was a girl or boy. When he picked up the kitty and lifted its tail, the kitty bit him thru his hand between his thumb and index finger. My Dad did not go to the ER. He instead waited a few days. He to be rushed to the ER when he was found slumped over in his truck passed out. He had a fever 103 and was in the hospital for 4 days on IV antibiotics.
My poor Dad can’t live that down. That Christmas my Momma gave him a toy kitten that looked like the one that bit him!!
Fortunately he did not have to have rabies shots.
Hi Bob and Sherri. I’m one of the ‘high risk’ people in this pandemic. I’m over 60. I have an auto immune disease that’s attacked my brain, lungs (need a biopsy) and heart (just had 2nd in Maine, internal heart pacemaker. Directly in the heart.) For treatment I’m going through an infusion like chemotherapy to completely shut down my immune system for the next four years. I asked the doctor who put me on the procedure, “What are my chances for survival if I catch this virus? And if I catch it, how will they treat me? Can they treat me? She didn’t answer for 30 seconds or more like she didn’t know what to say. She finally said” you need to wear a mask and wash your hands”. Needless to say my life expectancy is until my first cough. It’s ok though. I’ve had a magnificent life. From Special Forces to Robotic design and draftsman to Architectural design and much more. I’ve done things other men only dreamed of and best of all, I was always conscious of the gift of life and aware of my special moments. My life didn’t pass me by. I raised three step kids and when my wife left me, they stayed with me and I love them very much. I’ve created beautiful unique crafts like a custom inlaid marquetry guitar and more.Since I put my faith in God 35 years ago, I have not lied, cheated, or any negative actions. I’ll go to God with a clean conscience, however I may still have to account for my actions as a young man. I don’t expect a free pass but I can say since then I have treated all men and women honorably. When I was in the service I wrote a short poem while on a twenty mile full load March. It was published in some poetry contest book in the library of Congress. :
But I am a Ranger and I must endure, cold rain on my face, the jump out the door.
Just some of the things to prove I’m the one, a few more forevers this March will be done. Dec 1990
One message I’d like to get to people. It’s about hate. When I was 10 years old in 1967 I was bussed into the next African American neighborhood for desegregation. Unlike the little black girl who was escorted to school by lawmen for her protection, I had none. The atrocities committed against us for the next years left permanent scars and horrific pain. Also a terrible hatred of the African Americans who beat me mercilessly. Not because they were black but because I saw them as cowards who grouped up on a little boy. I remember one huge boy loomed over me in print shop. I asked him what his problem was. He responded about white peoples and slavery. I responded by saying I was Italian and my family just got here 60 years ago and we didn’t have slaves. It surprised him and he left me alone. I am not a person to judge anyone, nor do I wish to hate anyone. Fast forward twenty years and I’m stationed down in Georgia, my best friend is African American,Henry Howard C. Henry and I saw the world together. We talked of my pain and anger when I was young. He explained the other side I had not seen earlier in life. Henry was one of the bravest, honest, intelligent men to serve our country. As an Italian American yankee with a black friend in the heart of Dixie, I took a lot of punishment for being Henry’s friend. I’d do it again in an heartbeat and die gladly for Henry Howard C.
So my message for my fellow man is this. If you want a better world, no matter what your prejudices, hatred or pain, do not teach them to your children. Talk of your hurt and pain but do not teach hate. I never have. Let it die with you and our children will care for each other and the world will be better.
The lay thing I want people to understand is this. The GREATEST POWER given to us humans is the power to save a life (and childbirth) to know if you didn’t reach out your hand that person would be dead. That is action that echoes through eternity especially if the saved person has descendants.
We must protect our veterans. I propose that there is no hand to hand, kill or be killed combat until age 21. Enlist at 17, cross train and provide support until then. A young brain is still developing at 17. I believe it will provide a better warrior more able to cope. Less PTSD and suicides.
So Bob and Sherri, that’s the messages I’d like to share before I cross the river styx. I hope someone can get something positive from it. God bless us all and keep us safe. Dom Anthony Crocitto