BITTEN IN PARADISE — HOW ONE MOMENT CHANGED EVERYTHING
Empower Your Living
February 24, 2026 · 9 min read
Thursday, January 8: It’s another gorgeous day in my Colombian paradise at Finca Cuipo. My last day before two intense travel days — always exhausting and draining. All the more reason I’m looking forward to a very chilled day by the pool.
As usual, my day starts with yoga and meditation. The impressive view from my bungalow is equally calming and inspiring, so I take extra time to savor 90 minutes on the mat. I call it ME-time. It has carried me through some of the most horrendous times in my life, and even on this trip it has been my sanctuary.
At that moment, I am completely oblivious to what’s coming — and that it will take almost two weeks before I find my practice again.
Before breakfast, I enjoy my tea while journaling and soaking in the view — something I have been terribly lenient with lately. As it turns out, this will be my last entry.
A Leisurely Start to the Day
As I arrive at the main house, my special breakfast egg is already being prepared. Kelly, the wonderful helper at the finca, has perfected my instructions and serves the ideal soft-boiled egg — the yolk still liquid, just how I love it.
A small but comforting reminder of home. It’s crazy how grounding little things become when everything else feels unsteady.
After another rich homemade breakfast, I’m ready to jump not only into the day but also into the infinity pool. The view over the jungle and the Caribbean Sea is breathtaking.
A Split Second — and Everything Changes
I settle into a lounge chair under the trees; the pool deck chairs are already taken. Rising early can apparently have life-altering consequences 😧.
Helmut helps position the chair so I’m fully in the sun. And then it happens.
A sharp pain shoots through my right foot. I look down and see a well-camouflaged snake slithering away. “Snake. A snake just bit me!”
Helmut runs over with a scissor-like tool, grabs the snake, and takes it away.
From Panic to Survival Mode
For a split second, panic hits. I understand exactly what a venomous snake bite can mean.
Then I switch into survival mode. Thankfully, I’m very good at compartmentalizing when life depends on it — my superpower.
Everyone at the finca reacts immediately. Hosts and guests help me get to the main house, asking if I’m okay. My brain is split in two: completely blank on one side, while survival thoughts loop endlessly on the other.
Fiona packs my belongings — I won’t be returning to the finca. Helmut contacts locals to identify the snake and organize where to get the antivenom. I am deeply grateful while still trying to grasp what is happening.
Then the emotions crash in. I start crying uncontrollably; my whole body trembles. After weeks of emotional ups and downs, I feel abandoned by the universe. I had just begun to regain my footing — and now this.
Tovi quietly places her stuffed animal beside me. I want to hug her but don’t have the strength. My nervous system is completely overwhelmed.
Time Is of the Essence — My Life Depends on It
Within 30 minutes, Fiona organizes transport. There’s no time for long goodbyes and hugs. No room for hesitation.
The rough mountain road requires a skilled driver. In the village, another driver takes me straight to the hospital. In the back seat, calmness takes over. There is nothing left to do but trust that somehow everything will be okay. I feel no real pain yet, though my foot begins to swell. A sharp headache appears — unfamiliar and unsettling.
Fiona is in constant contact with me and updates me with all the necessary information. I contact my emergency person in Switzerland and connect them with Fiona, just in case things go sideways. Traveling solo means preparing for everything.
The Columbian Hospital Odyssey Begins
After 90 minutes, we arrive at Hospital Universitario Julio Barreneche in Santa Marta. With help, I hobble inside. My foot is now so swollen I can no longer walk on it.
Chaos everywhere — groaning patients, crowded corridors, constant movement.
Hardly anyone speaks English. I explain everything in Spanish while questions fire at me like machine-gun rounds. I ask them to slow down. It lasts about two seconds.
Eventually, I see a doctor. Communication remains difficult, and I feel increasingly powerless. Fiona sends contact details for a national snake-bite specialist. The doctors don’t know him. A worrying realization settles in: snake bites may not be treated here very often. I manage to have the doctor call him anyway. I understand nothing. I feel completely helpless.
The conclusion: a dry bite. No major symptoms. No anti-venom — for now.
The waiting begins.
Four hours later, the wound is finally cleaned
Two hours pass, I finally ask if the wound should not be cleaned. Staring eyes and a shrug of the shoulders are an answer.
At one point, I think: “I survived the snake bite. Now I might end up with an infection.” It would almost be funny — if it weren’t my life.
Breaking Point
By 8 p.m., I realize I won’t get results until the next day. I haven’t eaten in over eight hours. I’m thirsty. Exhausted. My leg is in excruciating pain.
I’m sitting in a wheelchair in a brightly lit hallway, surrounded by noise, with no real plan. That’s when I decide: I have to take charge.
Since no new symptoms have appeared, I check myself out. That doesn’t go over well. But my well-being is non-negotiable.
Getting paperwork for my insurance? A battle. I leave with only photos of a signed consent form and the release.
Not comforting. But necessary.
I would like to express my sincere gratitude to Fiona and Helmut. Their support has been immensely helpful.
Escape to Canada
After one night at La Casa de Acequia in Santa Marta, I know one thing: I need to get out of Columbia.
On the four-hour drive to Cartagena, I book the next flight to Toronto. Why Toronto? Direct flights. And it’s home. I was born there.
I get a wheelchair at the hotel near the airport. By now, my leg is swollen up to my knee. Boarding the plane is risky. Five hours. Severely swollen leg. But staying feels riskier. I organize thrombosis socks and crutches for my trip.
On January 11, I fly. Business class. Expensive. Necessary. Smart decision.
The Journey Continues
At Riu Plaza Toronto, something finally goes right. Wheelchair support. Kind staff. Care.
On the second morning, my leg hasn’t improved. ER at Mount Sinai Hospital. This time, things move. Bloodwork. Ultrasound. Toxicologists from the Ontario Poison Centre.
Seven specialists examine my leg like a rare museum exhibit. Conclusion: I must have received venom. Finally, I get anti-venom.
Five days after the bite, at 9:30 p.m., the drip starts.
Relief.
The Cost Question
A billing form shows CAD 4100. I almost faint. Insurance approval is required for anything above USD 500. I email them immediately from my laptop in the hospital bed. Five weeks later, the claim is still somewhere in administrative limbo😟.
The next morning: all blood tests normal. I’m cleared. But finance? Elusive. Eventually I learn: as a Canadian citizen, I’m charged 50% less.
Persistence pays off. Again.
Slow Recovery
Back at the hotel, kindness and care become the band-aid for my shaken soul. Staff help constantly; the wheelchair gives me independence again.
Day by day, swelling decreases. Eventually, I step back onto my yoga mat. And finally — the moment comes when I can put on a shoe and walk again.
I am incredibly proud of how I handled those harrowing days.
I decide to stay in Toronto for another two and a half weeks and book an AirBnB. To regain strength, but even more to ground myself. Slowly, I am recovering and finding joy in life again.
A Final Personal Word
It is not always easy to be strong alone. During those days, I often wished someone had been there — someone to share decisions or simply take the reins for a moment.
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” may be true. But it rarely speaks about the strength required — or the loneliness that remains afterward.
I have made peace with how this experience changed me.
I am now back in Winnipeg, slowly arriving, calming down, and finding new strength. More about that chapter — in a future blog post.
Notes:
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