I remember reading about that who had to knife his arm after getting trapped in some whatever canyon. Can’t say I was really that shocked or something, considering that I read plenty of survival stories, some of them so freaking spooky that I had to take sleeping pills for a week. Still, this one, albeit unimpressive, had something, I don’t know, outlandish, perhaps. It was the same, but different somehow. Anyway, I totally forgot about the wannabe surgeon until going on that hunting trip with my uncle and older brother.
Did care much about shooting and gutting, but they’re hunting trial had one of the best views ever. So, the weekend comes, I hopped into my bro’s car, picked up our uncle, and went straight to the location. It was a 2-hour drive. Kind of boring, come to think of it – bro kept asking me about my Tinder date, and our uncle repeated the same story he tells us each time we hit the great outdoors. Long story short, he was in ‘Nam, caught by behind enemy lines, and had to piss on his wound to prevent infection. Back then, I kept thinking that everything coming out of my uncle’s mouth was a bunch of horse crap, but you know how it is – what goes around, comes around.
If you’re reading this unc, don’t be mad. I’m just another one of those idiots who mistook for an old, PTSD-stricken drunk. So, we got there just after nightfall. There was no point to hitting the trail, especially since it was extra dark and between us three, we only had one flashlight. I helped my brother pitch up the tents while uncle stoked the fire pit. We retired shortly after 11 pm. ‘Twas about 6 or 7 in the morning when we hit the trail. Not being a big hunting enthusiast, I told my bro and uncle that I’ll be hiking for a while. We parted ways, not before convening on reconvening at the same spot after a couple of hours. The day was splendid – plenty of sun, fresh air, silence. Basically, every hiker’s wet dream come true.
So, after hiking the shit out of that trail, I told myself that should probably head back. I turned, walked for several minutes and then, all of a sudden, I hear this loud boom. A couple of seconds later, I was on the ground, feet not working, and bleeding like crazy. I didn’t understand what was happening. How the Hell did I wind up on the ground and why was I bleeding? Did I trip over a twig or something and nicked my foot in sharp rock? Nope. I was fucking shot! Yes, shot by my own brother who mistook me for a wild animal. Lucky for me that his aim is as good as his love life. Sorry, bro. Not sorry!
Neither my brother nor my uncle didn’t understand what was happening until they heard me screaming like crazy and swearing. When they got a little closer, they saw me on the ground, bleeding, and, yes, agonizing. My bro’s first instinct was to call 9-1-1. However, we kind of lost signal when we got to the base of the path. Heading back to the car was no alternative since it was a 2-hour hike. I might have said some nasty things about dear unc, but from that day forward, that guy’s my hero.
One thing I forget to mention – neither one of us packed a first-aid kit. Basically, we had guns, ammo, food, water, and that’s about it. Without losing his head, unc told my brother to head back to the car and try to get ahold of the ranger’s station. He left without saying much. Probably mumbled something about me ruining his day off or something.
Anyway, there I was, leaning against a rock, and uncle trying to hold pressure on that wound. I hurt like Hell, but there was not much either of us could do but sit tight and wait for my bro to return. We must have sat like that for at least three hours. Nothing was happening! No rangers, no ambulance, no helicopter. We were alone in the woods, and the situation was starting to look pretty dim. I remember turning towards my uncle and asking him if we should try and get to the car. That’s when I saw that look in his eyes. It haunts me to this day. When I asked him what was wrong, he simply looks me straight in the eyes and points out at something oozing from underneath the bandage. It was a puss. I shit you not. The wound got so infected that puss was running down my leg like it was tap water.
Of course, I panicked. You would too if you were in my shoes. But what happened next was so out of this fucking world that had I not witnessed it, I wouldn’t have believed it to be true. So, my uncle tells me to take a deep breath and wait for him to get back. He said that during the war, he learned a trick or two about dealing with open wound infections. Sure, what do I got to lose, apart from my leg?
So, he goes behind some bushes, digs up something from the ground, and then comes back. When he came back, I saw something moving in his hand – maggots. He had a handful of maggots. He told me to stay still because this is the only way that we can stave off the infection. I somehow found it within myself to get over the repulsion of seeing those disgusting things swarming over my puss-dripping wound. I remember feeling a sharp pain in my leg and screamed. Think I scared the living daylights out of every bear within a 10-mile radius. Half an hour later, unc grabbed a clean cloth and removed the maggots from the wound. I couldn’t believe my eyes – there was nothing there. No blood and no puss. Just a red patch of skin. My brother returned soon after that with two EMTs and a doc. They were astounded to learn the facts. Before taking me back to the ambulance, one of the EMTs told me that if it were not for my uncle, I would have probably lost the leg due to the injury.
Fast-forwarding a bit, I quickly recovered after the injury, and now I’m planning the next trip with my uncle and bro. No guns this time, guys! Cheers!
