A Rattling Experience : Victim Describes His Encounter With Snake That Bit Him in the Neck

Rattlesnake venom was racing through Donald Mathews’ veins, causing his neck, face and chest to swell like a balloon. His heart was pounding so fast it had become a nonstop roar--he could no longer feel the individual beats.

As doctors at Antelope Valley Hospital hustled to save his life, the 64-year-old Leona Valley man felt his throat closing up.

“I was gasping for air,” he said in an interview Monday. “I realized that if I didn’t let them get these tubes down my throat I was going to die. So I stopped breathing and tried to relax.”

Moments later, he said, the tubes got through, and life-giving oxygen poured into his lungs.

Two weeks later, recuperating at his house in a scenic rural area just west of Palmdale, Mathews talked vividly about his brush with death. His run-in with a rattler was especially dangerous, experts say, because the reptile bit Mathews in the neck as the man was poking his head into the attic of his house.

More than 95% of the time, snakes sink their fangs into arms, legs, feet and hands, snake-bite experts say, and the venom spreads more slowly.

Today, Mathews’ chest and throat are still black and blue from internal bleeding, and his stamina is limited. But the retired trade magazine and newspaper editor expects to make a full recovery.

In his first interview since he was bitten, Mathews said he wanted to alert residents to the danger of rattlesnakes, which are common in the desert and foothill areas of Southern California.

Although Mathews was home alone, he was able to dial 911 and wait calmly for help after the snake bit him. Staying calm helped keep the venom from spreading even more quickly, firefighters said.

Mathews attributes his survival to his good physical condition and the quick arrival of paramedics. He said he also is grateful to the crew of a rescue helicopter, which landed in a field near his house and whisked him to the emergency room, and to hospital physicians and nurses, who administered anti-venom and other treatment.

“If they hadn’t gotten me out so quickly, my throat would have swollen up to the point where I couldn’t breathe,” he said. “And that would have been it.”

Mathews’ ordeal with the rattlesnake began about 1:30 p.m. July 29, a Friday afternoon. Mathews had just climbed a stepladder in his kitchen. He opened a small door near the skylight to check the mouse and rat traps in his attic.

He heard a rustling sound, but never saw the snake that bit him. There was no pain at first, but he grabbed his throat instinctively.

“I withdrew my hand and saw the blood in it,” Mathews recalled. “That was when I knew I was in deep, deep trouble. I lunged off the ladder. It fell against the rafters. I landed on my elbow.”

The pain in his elbow was the least of his worries. He could feel his body swelling up as the venom worked its way down through his body.

Still Mathews was able to lower himself into a dining-room chair and dial for help. He said he felt like he was in a scene from “Rescue 911,” a television show he often watches.

Mathews was agitated when firefighters arrived. But he was coherent enough to tell them where to find the keys to his pickup, which they needed to move him to the helicopter.

When a sheriff’s deputy in the kitchen asked where the snake was now, Mathews calmly replied, “It’s right there above you.”

The startled deputy jumped back, he said. An animal control officer retrieved and killed the reptile later that day.

After the breathing crisis in the emergency room, Mathews awoke that night in the critical care unit, unable to speak because of the swelling and tubes in his throat. His family was gathered around him.

“The doctors told my wife they didn’t know if my brain would be affected,” Mathews said. “I couldn’t speak, so I started making gestures. I asked for a writing pad. . . . For better or worse, I was the same old Don.”

After six days, he was released from the hospital. Since then, the swelling has gone down, and Mathews’ strength has begun to return. On Monday, he finally felt up to having breakfast at a restaurant down the road.

As he discussed his frightening encounter with the rattler, including those moments when he had trouble breathing, Mathews insisted that he had never panicked.

“It isn’t a matter of being brave,” he said. “It’s a matter of appreciating life and knowing that we’re all going to die sooner or later. I don’t have any fear of dying--especially now.”