Jellyfish

I am no expert when it comes to identifying sea creatures. All I know for certain is that I have had two jellyfish encounters. One may have been the Thimble, the other called a Moon. Of the two encounters, the Moon jellyfish hardly makes for a story worth telling. Thousands of them were off the coast of Connecticut in Long Island Sound during a triathlon I participated in there. They did not sting at all, but I do recall the slimy feel of them against my hands as I breaststroked my way through the first phase of the race. It was like swimming through a thickening bowl of Jell-O.  My experience with the Thimble jellyfish, on the other hand, makes for a much more interesting recollection. A group of us was snorkeling near a reef off the coast of Caulker Island, a caye about an hour’s tender ride from Belize City, Belize. We were there with a guide to visit a reef to view stingrays and tropical fish on an excursion offered by the cruise ship we were sailing on through the Caribbean.  We were warned by our guide to beware of jellyfish. He was quick to point out that though the variety found near the reef could sting, they were not a life threatening species. The jellyfish were easily identifiable and seemingly avoidable. I watched as a friend swam a few feet ahead of me with the intention of steering clear of the beautifully pulsating jellyfish in her path. But a miscalculation regarding the speed of the current ended with it grazing the inside of her right thigh. She felt the sting and maneuvered her body to get out of the way. But like a ball pinging from one side to the other of a pinball machine, I saw it bounce off onto her left thigh, and then into her left calf. I was paying such close attention to what was happening with her, that I then failed to notice, until I felt the sting, that I, too, was in harm’s way.  The stings felt nothing like a bee or the prick of a needle, but more like the zing or zap of static electricity. We finished our swim and returned to the tender with the plan being to let us spend a few hours wandering around the sandy streets of Caye Caulker. As the tender sped back toward the dock, the sting spots started to throb as our bodies signaled the need to produce histamines. I knew from past experience with anything biting or stinging, that mine would probably swell to the size of a golf ball. It would be unpleasant for a few days, but then the swelling would cease and I’d be fine. My friend and I talked as best as we could over the roar of the boat’s outboard motors and agreed that we would both be okay.  As we approached the dock, I noticed that one of the other women in our group was looking as if she was going to faint. Against the guide’s orders, I got up from my seat and quickly moved toward her. I squatted near her and asked, “Did you get stung by a jellyfish?” She nodded her head but said nothing. Her pupils were large, her skin looked gray, and when I put my hand on her wrist, I could feel her rapid pulse. The boat was slowing. I yelled, “Is there an EpiPen onboard?” The guide’s eyes widened, and the boat’s captain abruptly put the engine on idle. “EpiPen! EpiPen! She’s having an allergic reaction to a jellyfish sting.”   By then another member of our group had moved closer to the woman. “I’m a doctor,” she said.  The captain opened up a small compartment near the steering wheel and pulled out a box. He opened it and grabbed the EpiPen to hand over to the doctor, and then picked up the radio transmitter. He spoke urgent Spanish. The doctor tore off the EpiPen packaging and jabbed the plunger into the woman’s thigh. The guide grabbed the dock and began tying up the boat. “Everyone please remain seated,” he said in a shaky voice.  I moved back to sit next to my friend. “How in the hell did you know what to do?” she asked. I didn’t know how and shrugged my shoulders. Within a few minutes, a vehicle–made for navigating the sandy roads of the island–arrived. Two people hurried out and helped to get the woman inside to transport her to a nearby clinic. The doctor went with them.  The rest of us got out of the boat in a sort of state of disbelief. The guide asked, “Is there anyone else feeling like they’re going to be sick?” He then asked us to raise our hand if we had been stung by jellyfish. There were four of us. He asked that the entire group all stick close by and not wander too far. He pointed with his finger to say, “The Pelican Sunset Bar is just over there, and the clinic is a three-minute walk in that direction in case anyone feels they need to see a doctor. Let’s all meet at the Pelican in exactly two hours. If possible, I’ll give you an update then, and if our friend is in good enough shape, we will all go back to the ship at that point.” He looked us all in the eyes to make sure we all understood him. No one gave him any pushback at all. We were like obedient little children whose dad had just laid down the law. At the Pelican bar, ice felt good on our stings but what we really needed was some Benadryl. After eating some lunch, we asked the restaurant owner whether there was a drug store nearby. It was a five minute walk to see whether we could find an antihistamine. The effects of taking Benadryl were a relief. Our guide came back to get us as planned, but had no news about the woman. When we left the island to go back to the ship, I worried about what had happened to her.  The guide asked the four of us who had been stung to please go immediately down to the ship’s infirmary and check in with the nurse. When we arrived, I was very happy to see the woman up and about and looking just fine. I couldn’t believe she recognized us because I figured she would have been in too much shock at the time to have any memory of what had happened on the tender. She thanked us for our quick intervention and said she’d only been at the clinic long enough for the doctor there to say she needed to get back to the ship as soon as possible. She was transported separately on a speedboat. That night, the phantom stings began. As best as I can explain, they felt like zaps in random spots all over my body. The zaps continued to occur over the entire next year for both my friend and I. The spot near the top of my right knee, where I was stung, stayed discolored for six months.  Even though I have retained a bit of a phobia for them ever since, jellyfish are beautiful creatures to behold. I recently stood in the Boston Aquarium and stared at the exhibits of them with awe.  Copyright DJ Anderson, 2023