Beware Swimming in Paradise…
Dawn nearly paid the highest price for her heavenly holiday
Pain erupted up my leg, and then the blood came...
Settling on the sunbed, I sipped my cocktail. This is the life! ‘Cheers!’ my boyfriend Dave said.
This March, we were visiting Khao Lak, Thailand.
My kids, Lewis, 16, Joel, 14, and Maddie, 13, were with their dad back home, so I was enjoying the peace and quiet.
It was the trip of a lifetime.
Off to the beach
We soaked up the sun, visited markets, and tried the local delicacies.
I spent hours snorkelling, exploring rock pools with mini crabs and millions of fish.
‘Let’s go for a swim before dinner,’ I said to Dave, on our penultimate day.
Pulling on my bikini, I headed to our usual spot on the beach. Dave dived in and swam off. I left my flip-flops by the side and walked into the surf. It felt like bath water and I could see the sand below.
Wading in, I was at waist height and about to swim off when I felt a stabbing pain on the sole of my left foot.
Something brushed past me in the water. Pain erupted up my leg.
And then the blood came. There was so much, turning the water red. It was like a scene from Jaws.
‘Dave! Something bit me!’ I screamed.
I couldn’t move. It was like I was paralysed. But what was it? Dave swam back and lugged me out of the water.
It was no Baywatch scene!
People crowded around me.
The pain was excruciating. I couldn’t move. All I could do was scream and cry.
‘You’ve stood on glass!’ some people shouted.
‘I’m a doctor,’ a woman from the crowd said. ‘You shouldn’t be in this much pain from glass.’
Before long, hotel staff came with a stretcher.
By now I was writhing in agony, sweating profusely.
I was stretchered to the hotel reception, still in my bikini. Not that I cared.
It felt like my leg was on fire. What’d happened?
Dave grabbed our insurance documents while a taxi was called to take me to the medical centre.
My vision was hazy and I couldn’t speak. It was like I wasn’t in control of my body.
Looking down, my foot was going purple.
Luckily, the medical centre was only 10 minutes away.
But, there, they hardly spoke any English.
They showed me cards of happy and sad faces, with a scale of 1-10.
‘200!’ I screamed. The doctor scratched his head. ‘Big fish?’ he asked.
‘I didn’t see anything,’ I sobbed.
He put me on a drip.
But after an hour, it still hadn’t worked.
The pain was even worse. I was thrashing around on the hospital bed.
Dave’s face looked pale as he held my hand.
The doctor came to the conclusion that I was allergic to whatever bit me.
He decided to put me on intravenous antibiotics. But, after 30 minutes... nothing.
‘I can’t take it any more!’ I begged.
Then he gave me morphine. Still nothing.
‘Cut my foot off!’ I screamed. Taking my blood pressure and heart rate, the doctor grew concerned.
Both were through the roof.
Poisoned!
The doctor disappeared to do some research and came back with terrifying news. ‘Stingray,’ he said gravely. What?!
Then I remembered – TV presenter and conservationist Steve Irwin had died because of a stingray.
It’d stabbed him in the heart. Would I die too?
I was transferred to the main hospital in Phuket – two hours away.
There, I met a stingray expert who spoke English and confirmed the diagnosis.
‘You’re lucky to be alive,’ he said.
Turns out, if the poisoned stingray barb had hit an organ, I’d have been dead
within a matter of minutes.
Luckily, the poison only lasted six hours.
But my wounds needed cleaning out. I had injections directly into the wounds, the poisoned skin was cut out and debris scraped away.
All without anaesthetic. Hellish!
I was kept in overnight.
Dave caught up on some sleep, while I thought of my kids. They could’ve lost me.
My wounds were flushed out again next day.
‘I just want to go home,’ I sobbed.
I had to beg the surgeon to sign my medicalrelease form, allowing me to catch my flight home later that day.
I paid for more seats, as
I had to lie down for the full 11-hour flight.
Landing, Dave drove me from Gatwick, straight to Royal Stoke University Hospital.
There, my vital signs were checked, my wound checked and bandaged.
I was sent home, but couldn’t do anything.
My children were angels with cooking and the chores.
District nurses had to visit me at home to change my bandages every day.
After 10 days, it got infected. Doctors here hadn’t treated a case like it before.
I tried hundreds of pills and creams while they figured out what would help.
I was housebound, off work for two months.
Lucky to be alive
Sadly, Dave and me split up from the stress.
But, finally, my wound started to heal, and I went back to work in June.
It wasn’t until I wore heels for Lewis’ prom in July that I felt better.
I’m not 100 per cent yet – I still get pains and numbness in my left side. And I still have two holes in my foot…
But, every day, I count my lucky stars that I’m alive.
I need another holiday to recover from the last one!
Still, I won’t be swimming in the sea ever again.
A MONSTER LURKED IN THE CRYSTAL SEAS... I’d have been dead in minutes if the barb had hit an organ