We all knew that funnel webs were killers. And back in the sixties there wasn't even a proven antidote. As I ran up the hill, my friend, Dom, shouted 'It's a funnel web!' Just to clarify fully the urgency of the situation. My little heart was beating, pitter patter, as I ran inside and told my parents. They got me into the back of the VW beetle and we headed towards Hornsby hospital. I remember looking at the leather seats closely and seeing great detail. And the green of the leaves in the trees as we rushed past - they were glorious and alive. I knew I might die. It was strange. I wasn't panicked but I had to consider my own early demise. It stretched by perception to a new level completely.
Everyone at hospital was really nice. I was put into a bed and kept under constant observation. It turned out that, luckily, it had been a not-as-poisonous male - and that also I was bitten on one of my toes - so the poison didn't fully enter the bloodstream. I was released the next day. Alive. It was good to still be around.
Today, I added Death himself, sitting there smugly, over the top of the photo of my original art.