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What It's Like...To Be Stung By a Lionfish

By Scuba Diving Partner | Published On June 21, 2011
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What It's Like...To Be Stung By a Lionfish


What it's like: Stung by a Lionfish

Antonio Busiello

The first lionfish gave up without a fight. As I swam closer, it paced the Utila wall at 110 feet. I aimed the spear of the hawaiian sling and released. Skewered, it hung lifelessly from the metal shaft. The kill made me giddy.

Adrenaline overcame me when I spotted another. I was so focused on hunting this next victim — stalking it as it inched toward an overhang — that I disconnected from the first fish still on the sling.

When I let go of the rubber band to shoot again, I immediately realized my mistake. I felt a needle slide into the index finger of my right hand. I knew the pain would soon intensify. I squeezed my finger to cut off circulation, keeping the poison from creeping upward.

After five minutes, I couldn’t bear the nausea and aborted the dive. As I waited for the others to board the boat, I wanted to vomit. It felt like someone was holding a lit match to my finger. The poison spread, searing my veins. For the next hour, I couldn’t escape the shooting sensations paralyzing my hand.

I was angry at myself — I’ve worked in the aquarium trade for 20 years, handling lionfish countless times and netting them easily. I knew their danger. Back at the resort, the divemaster brought a thermos of hot water so I could soak my finger. Then she disappeared, promising to filet the fish so I could have the last laugh and eat him for dinner. After a 10-minute hot soak, my finger was still swollen, but I was ready to dive again.

by Henry Schultz, as told to Brooke Morton

Antonio Busiello

The first lionfish gave up without a fight. As I swam closer, it paced the Utila wall at 110 feet. I aimed the spear of the hawaiian sling and released. Skewered, it hung lifelessly from the metal shaft. The kill made me giddy.

Adrenaline overcame me when I spotted another. I was so focused on hunting this next victim — stalking it as it inched toward an overhang — that I disconnected from the first fish still on the sling.

When I let go of the rubber band to shoot again, I immediately realized my mistake. I felt a needle slide into the index finger of my right hand. I knew the pain would soon intensify. I squeezed my finger to cut off circulation, keeping the poison from creeping upward.

After five minutes, I couldn’t bear the nausea and aborted the dive. As I waited for the others to board the boat, I wanted to vomit. It felt like someone was holding a lit match to my finger. The poison spread, searing my veins. For the next hour, I couldn’t escape the shooting sensations paralyzing my hand.

I was angry at myself — I’ve worked in the aquarium trade for 20 years, handling lionfish countless times and netting them easily. I knew their danger. Back at the resort, the divemaster brought a thermos of hot water so I could soak my finger. Then she disappeared, promising to filet the fish so I could have the last laugh and eat him for dinner. After a 10-minute hot soak, my finger was still swollen, but I was ready to dive again.

by Henry Schultz, as told to Brooke Morton