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Bathing with Piranhas
by Loraine Nordlinger

One hundred miles from the city of Iquitos, on the Amazon River in the Peruvian rain forest, my youngest son, Steve, and I landed at the Pink Dolphin Reserve.

It was our Christmas vacation and a new adventure. One week into our stay, our party of eight set out in dugout canoes to visit another native village.

After we landed and climbed our way straight up the slippery, slimy, mud of the river embankment we trekked through the thick, snake, insect and everything-infested jungle. The path became narrower as we crept single file along the edge of the river bank.

The river had washed away the underside of the bank and there was a 30-foot drop into the swirling muddy river below. Treading slowly, but not cautiously enough, my left leg went through the earth and was badly injured. The right leg that held me in place had totally whacked itself out of commission. The tendons and ligaments were popped, twisted out of position, and in spasm.

That's when the real adventure began. First, I had to be pulled up and out of that precarious position before they could carry me back along the narrow ledge to the canoe. But to be carried proved impossible, so I crawled through the ticket on my hands and knees, and while doing so, I watched myself from above.

I fell in love with my Self that day. I found out what I was made of and it was all good. Even as I write this account I want to kiss me all over for being so wonderful. I crawled to an opening where I laid down and waited for help to arrive. The jungle was alive with activity and the families from the tribes were gathering from all directions. I found it fabulously exciting, in between my screams and passing out. I kept telling my son to take pictures but he was far too concerned to do it. Later he said it just seemed heartless to take pictures of his mother while she was in so much pain.

The jungle was vibrant, all, truly focused on the present moment. There was so much chatter going on, mostly in an unknown language that sounded like an opera. Everyone wanted to help, everyone wanted to heal and care for me; and I loved it.

Evening was setting in and torch lights were lit while the paths were being cleared with machetes. I think everyone was enjoying themselves. Yes, it was an accident, but the oneness of intent was thrilling, very spiritual, and to this very day a wonderful standing ovation for me. Each time I think of the event my heart stands up and takes a bow. Good job, good job, Loraine.

A makeshift stretcher was put together made from, I think, palms leaves and branches, and I was carried back to the canoe. Now we had that slippery, slimy, slope to go down. They slipped carrying me and dropped me into the canoe. More concern for me. I felt safe and loved, hurt - and excited.

We made it back to the compound and more carrying me through the muddy rainforest to our main hut. The native healer had already been summoned and she proceeded to put all the pieces back in place. She did a lovely job rubbing my right leg up and down and I asked if there was a man there who would like to do that. Everyone laughed, and that's when my son Stephen took this memorable picture.

But that is only the beginning. I had one more week in the jungle and I couldn't walk. I hopped on my left leg until I couldn't stand the pain anymore and then I crawled whenever I had to go to the bathroom; and it wasn't close by. I crawled to the meal hut, where the meals were served buffet-style. A new friend fixed my plates. Her name was Terry, and she would empty my Ziploc plastic bags full of night urine, returning them for the next night.

Every day Mytet, a lovely Peruvian girl, rubbed my ankle while Terry read me stories. The jungle is very hot and humid and our huts were all opened, except for mesh screen walls and our makeshift shower, a garden hose. I was pretty funky and my ankle was ballooning up, when the biggest miracle of all happened.

Florence, a tall, very beautiful, long, red-haired Goddess appeared in my hut. She had come into camp from Iquitos, to rest after an unexpected miscarriage. She was an acupuncturist from Australia and had all of her tools with her. When she saw my ankle, she said it was starting to turn black and needed attention right away. She said ice should have been applied, not heat. She stuck needles all over my foot and ankle and the swelling started to go down. She had some of the Peruvian guides carry me to the river so I could clean up.

The Pink Dolphin was close by and I knew the water was filled with piranhas because we fished for and caught them daily. First she had me strip down and sat me outside on a stool and hosed me off before my quick wash among the fish. Florence never left me alone for very long until we all traveled back up the Amazon River back to Iquitos.

Thus began a whole new adventure, my love affair with my Self, and eternal gratitude to my fabulous son and traveling buddy, Stephen, and to Terry, Mytet and Florence, the three generous, gorgeous ladies of my Amazon adventure.