I had no idea that I would be endangering my very life simply going on vacation. Jokingly, I tell people that, "I'm allergic to Roatan, Honduras." It was no joke at the time. The possibility of death is very sobering.

The trip started with a warning omen. We set two alarms for the 7am flight, and slept through both... totally missed the plane. In retrospect that icky feeling in my stomach should ALWAYS be obeyed.

First light, I swam through the sea, snorkeling, stopping to float near interesting varieties of trunk fish, stoplight and rainbow parrot fish, flat as plate flounders, ..... my last naive morning before pain and fear.

An hour of snorkeling ecstasy later, I noticed something in the water, invisible to the eye but sensory to my skin. It felt a lot like cobwebs. We didn't think anything of it at the time. I had a few red bumps on my skin. Guess what? The next morning I woke up with red bumps, lots of them, especially on my face, chest and stomach. "Oh Joy", I thought, "This will make nasty pictures to hide or throw away." The problem was that it hurt, you know, like a huge pimple festering under a teenagers skin, waiting to erupt? A bad feeling and getting worse. In just a few hours, I had literally a thousand bumps, edge to edge covering my stomach. Nausea and pain kept me in bed. My body started to curl into fetal position. My head throbbed, feeling like a floppy under-stuffed teddy bear. My eyes rolled loosely in their sockets, failing to focus well. "Problem, I am REALLY sick." My husband, who wanted to have a lovely romantic vacation in the exciting world of adventure travel and diving... flipped.

The hotel management was concerned. Their suggestion, airlift me out in a helicopter...all the way back to Miami, except we could not get one. Then, a guardian angel arrived for me. Three of them. In the shape of American born doctors. These wonderful men were in Honduras doing free surgeries on the mainland. I remember laying curled up rigidly on the bed, men looming over me, One said, "If she asked for ice, you better get it for her. We don't know what it is.

The native translator approached my side. "Would you try a jungle tincture? My uncle is a Shaman." He is small, gentle voiced. His round face and calm eyes spoke volumes of compassion to me. I moaned yes unable to lift my head. An hour later he returned with a brown plastic bottle. Handwritten in Spanish was Dragon's Blood Flower. He explained

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