Rattlesnake Bite: Hand & Arm

Both fangs buried themselves in the back of your hand and the venom went to work like a fire in dry grass. By the second day the fingers are black past the knuckles, cold and dead to the touch, and the stink tells the doctor everything. He lays out the small saw and the laudanum and asks how many you can spare.

• Hand swollen into a black, useless mitt, no use of it whatsoever for 4 days minimum
• Fevered and delirious in stretches; you talk to people who are not there
• /me cradles a bandaged hand against their chest, the wrapping stained through
• One or more fingers may stay behind with the doctor, decide together

Recovery Weeks under a doctor's knife and carbolic if the hand is saved; untreated, the black climbs the arm and does not stop.·Doctor, urgently

The strike caught the meat below the thumb, and now a bruise-dark tide is creeping up the forearm hour by hour, a line you can watch move. The doctor scores a ligature above the elbow, opens the punctures, and marks the swelling's edge in pencil on your skin so he knows if he is losing.

• Arm splinted and slung, no use of that hand for 4 days
• Pencil lines up your forearm marking the venom's progress, a grim conversation piece
• Retching and cold sweats through the first night
• /me watches the dark line on their forearm like it owes them money

Recovery 6 days of doctor's care with the arm raised and drained; untreated, the tide reaches the shoulder and turns to blood poisoning.·Doctor, urgently

The fangs pinned your first two fingers as you snatched them back. The venom killed the flesh around the punctures, and the doctor spends an ugly hour cutting the dead away to save the living, packing the wounds with carbolic lint while you count knots in the ceiling boards.

• First two fingers splinted together and bandaged, no trigger finger for 5 days
• Dressings changed daily; the smell of carbolic follows you everywhere
• Deep scars across two fingers that will stiffen in cold weather for years

Recovery 5 days of daily doctoring, 10 alone, alone, the rot spreads and the fingers come into question.·Doctor required

A deep strike to the forearm, and the poison went straight for the whole of you. You burn with fever, your heart stumbles and races, and your gums seep pink into your spit. The arm swells tight from wrist to elbow, shiny as a sausage casing, while whiskey and cut punctures do what little they can.

• Fevered and weak, no riding, no fighting, and no heavy work for 3 days
• Arm swollen wrist to elbow, worn in a sling for 4 days
• Gums bleed when you eat; you spit pink and pretend not to notice
• /me sways in the saddle and grips the horn with their good hand

Recovery 5 days under a doctor's watch; untreated, the fever holds a week and the punctures fester besides.·Doctor, urgently

It got you square in the back of the hand and the swelling came on like rising bread. Inside an hour you cannot close a fist, the knuckles vanish, and the skin shines drum-tight. Somebody sucked and spat at the punctures the old way, and the doc's lancet did the rest.

• No use of your gun hand for 3 days, it will not close around anything
• Rings, gloves, and reins are out of the question while the swelling holds
• /me flexes their swollen hand slowly, wincing before it closes halfway

Recovery 3 days with a doctor's incisions and drainage, 6 if you let it settle on its own.·Doctor required

Both fangs took you mid-forearm, deep into the muscle. The burn goes bone-deep and every twist of the wrist wrings a fresh coal of pain out of it. The bruising blooms black and yellow in a spiral halfway to the elbow, ugly enough that folks wince when you roll your sleeve.

• Wrist and forearm too weak to lift more than a coffee cup for 3 days
• A black-and-yellow spiral of bruising to show anyone who asks, and some who do not
• Arm carried stiff at your side; buttons and knots are two-handed jobs done badly

Recovery 4 days with treatment and a sling, 7 without while the muscle stays stone-stiff.·Doctor required

The bite on your wrist looks almost polite, two beads of blood, modest swelling. The rest of you disagrees. Waves of nausea double you over, sweat runs cold down your spine, and your hands shake too hard to strike a match for the better part of a day.

• Trembling hands, no shooting, no cards, no razors for 2 days
• Nausea that ambushes you at the smell of food for 2 days
• /me fumbles a match twice, then just holds out the cigarette for a light

Recovery 3 days with laudanum and rest, 5 riding it out on willpower and black coffee.·Doctor required

The strike hit the meat of your forearm, but somebody's knife was out before the snake hit the ground, ligature, two crossed cuts, whiskey poured burning into them. Crude as it is, it worked: the swelling stops at a hand's span and the sickness passes in shivers instead of waves.

• Forearm bandaged over crossed incisions, no heavy lifting with that arm for 3 days
• Whiskey-burn scabs that itch fiercely as they heal
• A shivering, sweaty first night you would rather not repeat

Recovery 3 days if a doctor tidies the cuts, 5 if the trail surgery is all it gets.·Doctor required

You were already pulling back when it struck, and only one fang caught the edge of your hand. A single puncture, a swelling the size of a poker chip, and a burn that keeps time with your pulse through one bad afternoon.

• Tender, swollen edge of the hand, grip is weak for 2 days
• A single fang mark that will scar into a fine dinner-table exhibit
• /me shakes out their hand like they can flick the sting away

Recovery 2 days with a wash and wrap, 4 neglected and stiff.·Doctor advised

A shallow strike to the wrist. The swelling stays local but you spend a day and a night watching the bruise like a hawk, measuring it against a coin, waking to check it by candlelight. It never spreads. Your nerves take longer to settle than the wound.

• Wrist wrapped and favored for 2 days
• You catch yourself checking the bandage a dozen times a day
• One short-slept night; you are snappish till supper

Recovery 2 days once the bruise turns yellow, 3 at the outside.·Doctor advised

The fangs went through the leather glove and barely past it. Two shallow punctures in the back of the hand, a mean burn, and a glove with matching holes. The glove leather drank most of the venom, which is the best work it ever did for you.

• Stiff, aching hand, fine work is clumsy for 2 days
• A fang-holed glove you refuse to throw away
• /me tugs off the glove and pokes two fingers through the holes for the crowd

Recovery 2 days with a cleaning, 3 without.·Doctor advised

It slashed more than struck, fangs raking twin scratches across your knuckles as you yanked your hand out of the brush. Little venom got in, but the scratches puff into hot red welts and the knuckles ache like you punched a wall.

• Twin welted scratches across the knuckles, hot for 2 days
• Making a fist stings enough to make you rethink it for 2 days
• An itch under the bandage that tests your manners

Recovery 2 days with carbolic washes, 3 letting it ride.·Doctor advised

The nick on your thumb barely bleeds, but an hour later you go pale and clammy and have to sit down in the shade with your head between your knees. Your body sorts the small dose out by suppertime, leaving you wrung out and embarrassed in equal measure.

• Weak and washed-out, no heavy labor for 1 day
• A bruised thumb joint that complains when you cock a hammer
• /me sits down heavily in the shade, hat off, breathing slow

Recovery A day of rest and water does it; 2 if you push through and prolong it.·Doctor advised

The strike snagged your shirt cuff and spent itself in the fabric, leaving one shallow scratch along the wrist and a bead of venom that raises a hot little welt. It burns for an afternoon and then loses interest.

• A welt on the wrist, tender under a cuff for 1 day
• A shirt cuff with two fang holes, ruined or storied depending who is asking

Recovery A day with a whiskey wash; gone by the day after.·No doctor needed

You jerked your hand clear so fast the fangs only kissed skin, a scratch down the back of your hand, thin as a paper cut and twice as indignant. The real damage is the hour you spend inspecting it, certain it will swell. It does not.

• A thin scratch across the back of the hand, more insult than injury
• /me eyes every hole and hollow like it is personally armed

Recovery A day; the scratch scabs by morning.·No doctor needed

The strike missed clean because you threw yourself backward off your heels, straight into a boulder. The snake departs with its dignity; you depart with a bone-bruised elbow that sings a high note every time you knock it for the next day or two.

• A bone-bruised elbow, it barks when bumped for 2 days
• Not one mark from the snake itself, which you make sure everyone knows

Recovery A day or two; the bruise fades on its own.·No doctor needed

One fang skated off the ball of your thumb, leaving a scratch and a fright you will feel longer than the wound. You wash it with whiskey until the bottle is noticeably lighter and keep your hands in your pockets around brush for a while.

• A scratched thumb, sore under pressure for 1 day
• /me pulls their hand back from the woodpile and finds a stick to poke it first

Recovery A day; nothing to it but the memory.·No doctor needed

Two perfect punctures in the meat of your palm and not a drop of venom behind them, a dry bite, the snake bluffing with loaded dice. No swelling, no fire, no fever. Just two little holes and the finest excuse for a stiff drink you have carried in years.

• Two clean fang marks in the palm, your new favorite exhibit
• A deep and abiding suspicion of woodpiles

Recovery Wash and wrap; forgotten by tomorrow.·No doctor needed

The panic, the shout, the frantic sucking at the wound, and then somebody looks at the bite proper: a neat horseshoe of tiny teeth marks, no fangs at all. A rat snake, ill-tempered and harmless. Your friends will be doing impressions of your face for weeks.

• A horseshoe of tiny scratches on the hand, clean and shallow
• /me holds up the bitten hand and admits, reluctantly, that it was a rat snake

Recovery Soap and water; the teasing lasts longer than the marks.·No doctor needed

It strikes at your reaching hand and your hand is simply faster, you snatch the diamondback out of its own lunge, thumb clamped behind the jaw, fangs working an inch from your knuckles. You set it down in the rocks gentle as a christening and step back. Nobody who saw it will ever stop telling it.

• Not a mark on you, and witnesses
• Bragging rights: you caught a striking rattler barehanded
• /me holds up an empty hand and slowly closes it, quick as a trap

Recovery Nothing to heal; the legend matures on its own.·No doctor needed