Since the age of eight my mother has referred to me as ‘peanut brittle’ because I am. That’s the age at which I had my first allergic reaction to peanuts. I went into full blown anaphylaxis. First, I broke out in hives, itching and red. Then my face and throat swelled such that I couldn’t breathe. I experienced neurological symptoms including a sense of impending doom before I passed out. If you don’t receive medical attention within minutes, you will die and I came close that day. People used to be scared of bears and wolves, witches and imps, but modern demons reside in such banal things as the humble peanut. For me it means a quick and terrifying death. At least it would if the wonders of modern science had not endowed me with an EpiPen which I have carried every day since. This contains epinephrine, commonly known as adrenaline. It’s the stuff that small glands on top of your kidneys produce when faced with a fight or flight situation. The only difference is that the EpiPen contains about thirty times as much as your body would produce naturally. It’s almost like becoming the incredible hulk. Your lungs open and your heart beats faster. Your muscles are charged with oxygen and energy and the effects of the anaphylaxis are reversed.
So you see I’m brittle, or liable to break, in the presence of peanuts, hence peanut brittle. This is of course the name of a highly calorific snack. It’s real survival food. Four ounces contains over 500 calories. But it’s completely off limits to me. Ironically the official advice from doctors was for pregnant women to avoid peanuts to stop their children getting allergies. This advice has been completely reversed. Exposure to peanuts in utero and when very young has been shown to reduce incidence of peanut allergy.
This week I’ve gone hunting. I’m headed for a remote lodge I’ve used before. I am aiming for complete solitude. Just me and my thoughts. I’ve brought my rifle, but I don’t mind if I don’t shoot anything. I will only be aiming it at things I can eat myself. I have no plans to bring a deer back for the family. I also have my EpiPen, and some food, though there is usually something to eat at the lodge too. And I’ve bought books of course. I like to read plays because they are short and when I’m alone I sometimes act out the parts. I have the Seagull by Chekhov. The same Chekhov who famously said that if a gun is introduced in the first act, it must be fired in the third.
I parked my truck at the side of the road and headed off using only a compass and my memory as a guide. I was instantly at peace. My nostrils dilated to take in a smell of the forest. I didn’t even care that it was raining. The weather would clear before the light faded which was ideal as I needed to make camp that evening. It would take a few days to get to the lodge. After three hours of trekking, I bumped into the last people I would see for a while. From then on it was just me and nature. There are some dangers in these forests. The animals generally avoid humans especially after you’ve made a fire. The wolves largely keep to themselves, but Eurasian brown bears have killed here recently.
Unless I had a really good line of sight, my rifle would be pretty useless against a charging bear. Only a 12-gauge shotgun could take it down. I’ve only experience with small things like squirrels and partridges. I was glad when the sun started to set that I had not had the opportunity to fire my rifle yet. I arranged my camp. I hung a tarpaulin between trees and lit a fire. I started to read the play by the light of my headlamp, acting out parts as I went, putting on silly voices for each character. I fell asleep by the dying embers of the fire.
The days are long here in the summer, and it was in the blackest portion of the night that I was awoken by a low growl. The fire had gone out completely. I was not sure if I had dreamed it or not. My rifle was useless. I pointed it into the dark and let off two rounds hoping to scare whatever was out there. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I was in a state of hyper alertness. I could hear twigs breaking. I was being circled, by one or more creatures. I stood there terrified for about 45 minutes until the sky turned to twilight. I wasn’t sure if I was seeing things or not. Shapes moved among the trees. I took what food I had left and chucked it into the darkness in hopes of appeasing whatever stalked me. I should be at the lodge soon anyway. After 90 minutes it was bright enough to read. I packed up and left. Whatever was out there had taken the food.
I was so exhausted by the stress of being alert that I made slow progress the next day. I stopped frequently to rest and at one point in the afternoon took a nap. I wouldn’t make it to the lodge that day. I set up camp the same as the previous night. This time I gathered twice as much firewood and I loaded it up just before I fell asleep. My circadian rhythm was all out of sync and I was again woken in the night. This time the growl was unambiguous. I could tell by its depth and cadence that I was dealing with a sizeable brown bear. I fired two shots just as last night. I heared a yelp. I actually hit it. The chances were slim but somehow, I hit it. It started to roar. It was furious. I have no food to throw and no chance of hitting it a second time. I back up against a tree with my rifle pointed into the night.
Then there was silence. The bear charged at me. I shot but it had no effect. The bear pushed me to the ground and mauled me. I slipped out of my raincoat which it continued to maul. I grabbed my bag and felt around for my bear mace. In the darkness I pulled it out, but it was not mace, it was my EpiPen. I looked up to heaven, said a prayer and then stabbed myself in the chest with it. I could instantly feel the epinephrine coursing through my veins. My heart beat fast, and my airways opened wide. It was a fight or flight situation, but you can’t outrun a bear. The beast reared up and I punched it with everything I had. It chowed down on my arm, almost ripping it clean off. With my free arm I put it in a choke hold and squeezed. It continued to roar and thrash and eventually struggled free. I stood up and made myself look big. I didn’t show any fear. I screamed blue murder. Enough light was available for us to size each other up. Our eyes locked and there was a mutual respect. I took a step towards the bear, and it turned and ran.
Not many people can say they’ve fought a bear and lived to tell the tale. If I hadn’t landed a shot on it, and if I hadn’t had the EpiPen then I would not still be here. Perhaps Chekhov is only half right. The gun is not always a gun. In this case it was an EpiPen. Introduced in the first act and used in final act. But it is not the final act because I am not in a good way. I managed to stem the bleeding from my arm with a torniquet and set out for the lodge. I found it quickly. Inside I am safe from bears. I sent some messages. Thank God there is signal. I was told that a rescue team will be with me in 48 hours. I tell them I can hold on until then. I’m saved. I pass out from exhaustion.
Having not eaten for days I woke up with a ravenous hunger. When one enters survival mode like this one will eat anything. I am no longer a conscious person, just an animal driven by instinct. I gorge on biscuits from the cupboard. This is survival food. It’s highly calorific and delicious. I collapse onto the floor satiated. The fog in my mind clears enough that I am full cognizant of my surroundings and what is happening to me. I’m braking out into hives. My skin is itching and red. My face and throat are starting to swell. I can barely breath as I look at the wrapper. I reach into my bag for my EpiPen and pull it out but when I look closer, I can see it is a can of bear mace. I have absolute clarity about what will happen to me next because I have experienced this once before. There isn’t even time to send a message or scratch one into the floor. The world starts to go black. It is being turned off for me, permanently. Chekhov was only half right. The gun is not always a gun. In this case it was peanut brittle.