‘Shit, shit, shit,’ he continues. ‘Fuck!’
Whatever has happened to him, it’s really hurt him, and it only seems like the pain is getting worse.
He hurries out of the water and drops onto the sand. He rolls around on his back – it looks like he’s trying to grab his foot.
‘Jellyfish…’ he says, although it sounds more like he’s using his breath than his voice. ‘Stung… jellyfish…’
He can hardly get his words out. His face is bright red, the veins are bulging in his neck, looking like they might explode. I have no idea how painful a jellyfish sting is but, if it can take down a man mountain like Ozzy, it must be really bad.
‘Shit, what do we do?’ I ask Camilla. Not that I’m expecting her to know. She probably has someone on her team who takes care of jellyfish for her, so it never comes up, never ruins her picture-perfect, mega-expensive holidays – the ones, if her Instagram is anything to go by, she goes on about twenty-five times a year.
‘Okay, I think I know what to do,’ she says – and she sounds like she means it. ‘In that movie with that woman… You know the one, she’s got red hair, I think she was married to, oh, what’s his name, from… it doesn’t matter. Anyway, what I saw them do, and it worked… you’re supposed to… ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this… you’re supposed to urinate on it.’
Oh. Oh, no. She wants one of us to… oh boy. Oh, shit… Now that I think about it, I think I’ve heard that before too. Actually, I think I saw it in an episode ofFriends. You can’t take medical advice fromFriends, can you? It’s not like it’s…Scrubs… or like you should take advice from sitcoms at all. Camilla says she saw it in a movie – is that more or less reliable than a TV show?
Ozzy groans dramatically.
‘Help…’ he says weakly. ‘Heeeelp… heeeelp…’
His voice loses strength with each word he calls out.
‘Aren’t you going to do it?’ Camilla says. ‘The man needs help.’
‘Heeelp…’ Ozzy moans right on cue.
‘I literally went to the outhouse just before we started fishing,’ I tell her quietly. ‘I couldn’t do it if I wanted to.’
And I really don’t want to, I’m sure that goes without saying.
‘Well, I’m not doing it,’ Camilla announces. ‘Absolutely not. Not a chance.’
‘Help…’ Ozzy says again. His body is stiff, his eyes bulging, the veins on his neck throbbing even faster than they were before. He really does need someone to do something, and fast. I wish Lockie were here, perhaps he’d know what to do – I’m sure, logistically, he’d find it a lot easier to pee on Ozzy’s foot too.
‘Absolutely not,’ Camilla doubles down. ‘The therapy I’d need…’
Just as I’m wondering whether it’s worth me trying, at least, seeing if I can get anything going – although how much do you need? A little isn’t going to cut it, is it? – Honey comes running down the beach, to see what all the commotion is.
‘What’s happened?’ she asks genuinely. ‘Can I help at all?’
‘Oh, this is your girl right here,’ Camilla insists. ‘I’ll hazard a guess it’s not her first time doing this… so… I’ll leave you all to it.’
‘Jellyfish,’ Ozzy pants at Honey. ‘Stung… foot… help…’
‘Right, okay, I know what to do,’ Honey says calmly.
‘I cannot watch this,’ Camilla declares, before heading back to camp. ‘I’m sure some people would pay to, but not me…’
Her rant fades to silence as she walks off. She wasn’t being much help anyway.
Honey empties out one of our water flasks and then fills it with seawater. She’s quick but calm, a woman on a mission. She pours it over Ozzy’s foot before filling it again, pouring again, filling again – always with seawater. I’m yet to see her even think about peeing on him. Then she examines the sting on his foot, using a shell to flick off any bits that might be on it, and then rinsing it again.
‘Okay, there’s nothing there now,’ she tells him, giving his leg a reassuring squeeze. ‘You got away clean. No bits stuck to you. You’re going to be all right.’
Whatever she did must have helped, because Ozzy is breathing more normally, and his face is slowly fading back to its usual colour. He can form whole sentences too.
‘Oh my God, thank you so much, Honey,’ he tells her. ‘You… you saved the day.’
‘You’re lucky she came,’ I tell him. ‘Camilla wanted us to pee on you – well, she wanted me to. I’d be making a mental note, of who did and didn’t want to pee on me in a crisis. That girl is just not a team player.’
