And then I learned that there are 30 species of scorpions indigenous to Arizona, and featured prominently among them is the poisonous Centuroides Exilicauda, commonly known as the Bark Scorpion.
 
Uniformly tan or gold in color with a slender form usually measuring approximately 2 1/2" in length, a sting from said desert dweller results in symptoms including pain and burning at the sting site, numbness and tingling to the extremities and facial region, muscle twitching, convulsions and respiratory difficulties. This is usually the point where the "death is rare" information makes an appearance. Say, aren't we having fun now, kids?
 
Here is the paltry list of scorpion related camping advice I was able to obtain: 1) Shake out your clothing before putting it on to dislodge scorpions and other poisonous arachnids like the black widow and brown recluse. Oh, what fun, more arachnids to traumatize me. 2) Shake out your bedding to make sure none of these friendly creatures has decided to bed down with you for the night. Okay, but what about after I fall asleep? What then?  3) Stay away from watering holes, as scorpions are drawn to and can live off of nothing but water for months. Fine, sure, I don't need any water while camping in the desert.  4) Wear ankle high hiking boots and avoid sandals or going barefoot.  Okay, now these camping gurus are just insulting my intelligence.
 
So how are my fellow arachnophobes feeling at this point? As safe and secure as I am? But no! There's more!
 
Apparently the Arizona State University developed an anti-venom to the Bark Scorpion's sting, but it is no longer produced as the FDA did not approve it. I hope a elegantly slender Centuroides Exilicauda stings them square on their collective asses so they can mull over that brilliant decision.  Clinical trials are being run on a Mexican version of the anti-venom, which does no one any good in the interim.
 
So let's say, for the sake of argument, that the worst has happened and I've been stung by a Bark Scorpion. What do I do? (proviso: this is NOT going to happen, however, as I am employing every ounce of positive projection available to me to avoid this fate. I will not get stung... I will not get stung... I will not...).
 
According to the information I've obtained, the first thing is to identify that what I am experiencing is in fact a scorpion sting. I guess it would be possible that I might not witness the hasty, scuttling retreat of the culprit's macabre little form, resembling nothing so much as a featured subject from a H. R. Geiger canvass, as by this point I am spinning like a dradle around the camp site in full blown panic mode.
 
Naturally it follows that the first piece of advice is DON'T PANIC. Remain calm and relaxed. Ah yes, as you can see I've already got that one covered.  For I've stopped spinning and am now merely screaming at a glass shattering pitch.
 
The second step recommended is to wash the area with soap and water. This should present no obstacles as I have left my water supply safely behind in my apartment and the nearest watering hole is located somewhere in the Sahara's Empty Quarter region.
 
Thirdly, I am to apply a cool compress to the area. Okay, I can take one of those chemically suspect cool packs with me as my water source has been virtually limited at this point to plucking out the spines and munching on a cactus.
 
The fourth step is to call Poison Control (800) 222-1222. I am having an artful tattoo of the telephone number pricked in to my skin as we speak.
 
Finally, I am cautioned to keep my tetanus shots up to date. Luckily, as I stepped on a nail not to long ago, I am good in that area. Did you ever think you'd see the day when some one described themselves as lucky for stepping on a rusty nail?
 
I've learned so much about these clever little critters, I could just go on for ages. The specialized venom composition and dose regulation of the resulting neurotoxin is especially compelling; as is the information on "How to Protect Your Home from Scorpions," a list as long as my trembling arm.
 
I know I most likely will not even see a scorpion on my impending camping trip, much less get stung by one, so do not worry for me, beloved reader. I'll be doing enough of that for us all.
 
Yes, I think I've created enough wide-spread panic for one article.  Therefore my work here as a card carrying arachnophobe is done. I bid you sweet dreams, and remember, don't let the bed bugs bite (insert pitiful whimper here).
 

Click for Melfa's Musings Archive

A.M. Melfa recently moved to Sedona, AZ from Northern California.

[Home Page] [News Home Page] [Back to Community Page]