Science Communications Article

I am going to tell you a story about why you should tell a story. You might be saying to yourself, “Why?” 

Things could get a bit circular here. And good stories follow a linear path, using momentum, colour and detail to keep your attention. So let me set things in motion.

By the end of this story, an almost miraculous task will be accomplished. And it is only made possible because of something you are going to do. 

You see, I am writing this in the south of France, in a rural stone cottage overlooking a valley. The cottage is luxurious in some ways, with antique wood furniture and a big down-filled sofa with expensive cream cotton throws, but it is so cold inside I am wearing two pairs of pants and two sweaters. The tip of my nose is cool to the touch. There is a swimming pool, which I can see through the double glass doors, and the pattering rain makes the surface look very pretty. But I am trapped inside, with another creature who, as it turns out, does not like the rain.

I first discovered our unexpected house guest when I went into the spare room to get ready for my sister’s arrival tomorrow. The spare room is upstairs, so I have no idea how the surprise guest got there, especially into the bottom of the large wooden armoire. That’s wardrobe, in French. I was looking for the extra bedsheets. The bottom of the armoire was like a dark cupboard and I couldn’t see into the back. So, my arm was halfway in before I saw the viper.

And this is what I still can’t figure out, and I went over it time and time again, in my half-conscious state, trying to answer the questions of both the doctors and herpetologists. Why did I continue to reach in even after I registered the snake? And what was this snake, who loves the dry rocky habitats of the Balkans, doing in my closet near Toulouse?

Vipera ammodytes is the most poisonous European snake, and it is sometimes called the nose-horned viper. My new companion was a biggie, almost a metre long, though of course was loosely looped upon itself when we first met. With fangs well over a centimeter long, what shocked me most about the bite was how “secure” it felt. Which is ironic, because the venom is proteolytic, so it was loosening my tissues and digesting me almost right away. My blood vessel walls were starting to hemorrhage, and I could no longer coagulate my blood properly because of hemotoxins in the venom, which destroy red blood cells. But this was the least of my worries. My new snake friend has evolved a neurotoxin that has specific molecular targets that impair nerve impulses, and it was the loss of feeling in my rapidly ballooning hand that made me call out, more out of surprise than pain, though the pain was an eye opener too.

Unfortunately, my shouts alarmed the snake even more, and it decided to jab again before I lost the ability to share any more details.

So, I’ll pick up this story from when I regained consciousness, and heard people addressing me in a language that I did not speak. Now I was truly terrified, because I was having trouble breathing, and this seemed important to share. Once I realized I was in a hospital, I tried to convince myself that they would not let me suffocate, and the picture started to come together. I was on a respirator, and it gives you a suffocating feeling. Gracious me, into what nightmare have I awoken?

I will spare you the grim and sickening anxiety of the next few weeks, and an allergic reaction to the antivenom (apparently more common if bitten twice). I lived to tell the tale, as you can see. We are back in the cottage. We don’t keep it warm partly out of the fear of being a haven for other unexpected guests. I can’t say I am completely comfortable living here anymore.

And now I want to thank you. We have accomplished the miraculous task of teleporting you through time and space to the south of France, to the date of this story. It was made possible because you suspended your disbelief and agreed to follow along. 

You identified with a stranger; you may have felt a bit of tension or concern. Along the way, you encountered some science. And that’s why I told you this story – to show you that story is an effective structure for sharing science.