Yesterday, I was reading a story about the discontinuation of antivenin, by the current producers, for the bite of the coral snake. The snake is not a major threat to great numbers of people, because it is not indigenous across a large area of the nation, and also because it is not as efficient at attacking as some other snakes, through an oddity of nature.

Still, when a coral snake lands a strike on a person, the problem is very severe, though they may not immediately realize it. This is proving to be more so than ever before, as the supply of antivenin is smaller than ever before, and is not being replenished for a reason that can only be described as human stupidity.


As venomous snakes go, the coral snake is a clumsy biter. Unlike pit vipers such as rattlesnakes and cottonmouths, which have gruesomely efficient fangs that articulate forward during a strike and inject venom like hypodermic needles, the brightly colored coral snake has small, rear-facing fangs that guide venom into a wound. This process doesn’t always work well — experts estimate that 25 percent of coral snake envenomations are dry bites — which is perhaps why the coral is so unaggressive. The snake is found throughout Florida, as well as in parts of Alabama, South Carolina, Louisiana, Texas and Arizona, but there are generally only about 100 or so bites each year.

What the coral lacks in belligerence, it makes up for in neurotoxicity. Unlike bites from pit vipers, which cause immense pain and swelling at the wound site, coral snake victims usually report little pain after being bitten. But the effects begin to show within hours, with symptoms such as tingling sensations in the extremities, dysarthria (slurred speech) and ptosis (droopy eyelids). Then a victim’s lungs shut down. “The venom acts as a neuromuscular blockade to the lungs,” University of Florida professor of medicine Craig Kitchens says. “Without antivenom, you need artificial respiration or you die.”

Notice that the article does not state that you may survive without the antivenin, as is sometimes possible in the case of the bites of other snakes.  How many people are truly aware of this, and have access to a method of artificial respiration quickly? One hundred bites per year is not many, but would you want to be in that number only because of a regulatory and political problem?

Unfortunately, after Oct. 31 of this year, there may be no commercially available antivenom (antivenin) left. That’s the expiration date on existing vials of Micrurus fulvius, the only antivenom approved by the Food and Drug Administration for coral snake bites. Produced by Wyeth, now owned by Pfizer, the antivenom was approved for sale in 1967, in a time of less stringent regulation.

Wyeth kept up production of coral snake antivenom for almost 40 years. But given the rarity of coral snake bites, it was hardly a profit center, and the company shut down the factory that made the antivenom in 2003. Wyeth worked with the FDA to produce a five-year supply of the medicine to provide a stopgap while other options were pursued. After that period, the FDA extended the expiration date on existing stock from 2008 to 2009, and then again from 2009 to 2010. But as of press time, no new manufacturer has stepped forward.

Antivenom shortages are a surprisingly common occurrence. The entire state of Arizona ran out of antivenom for scorpion stings after Marilyn Bloom, an envenomation specialist at Arizona State University, retired in 1999. Bloom had been single-handedly making all the scorpion antivenom for state hospitals. Recently, Merck & Co, the only FDA-licensed producer of black widow antivenom, has cut back distribution because of a production shortage of the drug. In a 2007 report, the World Health Organization listed worldwide envenomations as a “neglected public health issue.”

New scorpion and black widow antivenoms are currently in the pipeline, thanks to efforts by several poison-control associations to speed foreign drugs into the market through FDA research programs. There is also a coral snake antivenom produced by Mexican drug manufacturer Instituto Bioclon that researchers believe could be even more effective and safe than the outgoing Wyeth product. But that drug, Coralmyn, is not currently licensed for sale by the FDA. The tests required for licensing would cost millions of dollars, and for such a rare treatment (there are 15 times as many scorpion stings per year as coral snake bites), it could take decades for Bioclon to make its money back.

So many people will die simply because it was not expedient to to the right thing, or that the cost was too high? This is almost like saying we will stop maintaining fire departments in areas of high numbers of brick and other non-wood structures, because of the savings in cost. Is anyone going to stand for that?

Envenomation experts express exasperation and disbelief at the situation. “It’s ridiculous that we’re losing a technology that we already have,” says Joe Pittman, a snakebite treatment specialist at the Florida Poison Information Center in Tampa. “It’s even more ludicrous that we have a product that’s available, and we have to jump through so many hoops to get it approved.” In July 2009, an FDA advisory board determined that Coralmyn qualified for an accelerated approval process, but there is still no one with the estimated $3 million to $5 million to pay for the required studies.

“Nobody in this situation is being a bad actor,” says Eric Lavonas of the Rocky Mountain Poison and Drug Center. “We just don’t have a system set up to deal with it.” With no adequate replacement for coral snake antivenom, hospitals are likely to appeal to local zoos, many of which maintain small stocks for their staff. But zoos are under no obligation to provide the medicine.

It may seem as though no one is being a bad actor here, but I say that because the situation has come about, someone needs to step up and change the way things are done. Any other course of action is reckless and borderline criminal. The right thing getting done should not be the victim of the economic downturn.

If and when shortages do occur, many hospitals will have no other option but to intubate coral snake bite victims on ventilators for weeks until the effects of the toxin wear off — potentially costing hundreds of thousands of dollars per bite. “It’s probably going to end up costing us far more not to deal with this than to deal with it,” Lavonas says, “both in human suffering, and in dollars and cents.”

So here we will play roulette, betting against the house, and, in the vernacular of my grandmother, we will be “penny wise and pound foolish”. It looks as though those hundred bites each year may cost much more than anyone has contemplated – in dollars, in human lives, and in possible results that could come from the production of the antivenins, research ideas leading to treatments that could far surpass the few that are bitten each year, as many of the toxins we have discovered that nature provides have usefulness to us, in the treatment of things far afield of what we had first thought.

Will we be bitten by the snake of our own collective stupidity? Or will we do the things we know are the correct things?




Mad as Hell (Howard Beale-Network) Why is is that this image is so appropriate so much of the time? I believe that none of us today get “mad as hell” enough of the time. Complacency is rampant in our everyday lives.