David Trudell is seen in this photo from May 2015, holding a snook he caught in the Indian River Lagoon in Fort Pierce. His widow, Delta Trudell, holds his photo during an interview April 11 at home in Port St. Lucie. (XAVIER MASCAREÑAS/TREASURE COAST NEWSPAPERS)

By Tyler Treadway of TCPalm

The Indian River Lagoon fishing trip that led to David Trudell's death almost didn't happen.

Trudell and his wife, Delta, couldn't get their boat motor started. They had given up and pulled their 17-foot fishing boat out of the water and were about to head back to their Port St. Lucie home when he decided to turn the key — just one more time.

The 150-horsepower motor roared to life, and soon the Trudells were pulling mangrove snappers out of the lagoon almost every time they put a line in the water.

But because of what happened that perfect day last July — what frequently happens to fishermen when they take a hook out of a fish's mouth — David Trudell would be dead within 48 hours.

Eight months later, Delta decided it was time to tell people, particularly fishermen and all those who cherish their time on the lagoon, about the danger that lurks in the water.

"None of us knew anything like this could happen," she said. "And I pray that it never happens to anyone else."

Doctors told Delta her 65-year-old husband had been infected by Vibrio vulnificus, a naturally occurring bacteria in the lagoon, when he was pricked by the dorsal fin of one of the mangrove snappers he had caught.

Standing at his dying father's hospital bed, 32-year-old Todd Trudell yelled in disbelief at the assembled team of doctors, "You can't tell me a fish prick is the cause of this."

One doctor replied, "Yes, son, it is."

Saturday

David had been fishing on the lagoon since he was 6. He always said July was the best month for snapper. But by July 18 he hadn't been out all month, and he was eager to fish his honey hole at the entrance to the Harbor Branch Oceanographic Institute dock north of Fort Pierce.

The Trudells got there at 10 a.m.

"There were a bunch of people fishing close to us," Delta recalled, "but they weren't catching fish like David. We caught our limit in half an hour."

The water was a little dirty, "but we didn't think anything of it," she said. "I always thought the bad river water was down south around Stuart, where they get all the Lake Okeechobee discharges. I never thought there was anything dangerous in the water up here."

On one of his last catches around 10:30 a.m., David had trouble getting the hook out of the fish.

"That snapper fell on the deck of the boat, flopping around," Delta recalled.

Its fin stuck David, who was wearing flip-flops, on the inside of his right ankle: Two small pin pricks about an inch apart.

"David said, 'Damn it, that fish really got me.' I said something like, 'Man up. How bad could a little prick from a fin be?'" she said. "I'm sure he got fin pricked all the time and never thought twice about it. ... It happens to everyone who fishes. We sure didn't think twice about it that day."

The Trudells were home and the fish cleaned by 2 p.m. An hour later, David lay down to take a nap. His right foot ached, he assumed from a heel spur, throughout dinner at Longhorn Steakhouse. Once home, Delta could barely pull off David's cowboy boot.

"His foot was so swollen, and he said it was killing him," she recalled.

Several times that night, David got out of bed and vomited, thinking the cause was something he ate.

Sunday

Delta was up at 7 a.m. for her morning run, with plans to go to church afterward. But David was waiting for her, in pain, feeling faint and ready to go to a hospital.

As they walked to the car, he told her, "Everything is so bright."

When they arrived at the Martin Emergency Center at St. Lucie West about 9 a.m., David's blood pressure was too low for him to be given painkillers.

"That was unusual," Delta said. "He had been to the doctor the week before, and his blood pressure was fine."

David had a kidney deficiency that caused blood clots, and he took blood thinners to prevent them. It was a condition, not an illness, Delta said.

"He was well, he was working, he was fine," she said.

The staff took an X-ray, thinking David might have a broken ankle.

"We knew he didn't have a broken ankle," Delta said, "but we never thought about that fish."

A doctor told David he had "some kind of bacterial infection, but they weren't sure what it was," Delta said. "He asked David what he had been doing the last couple of days. Had he hurt himself at work?"

David, a carpenter for St. Lucie County schools, managed a laugh, saying he hadn't worked that hard on Friday.

Delta recalled the doctor's next litany of questions and their answers:

"What did you do Saturday?" the doctor asked.

"We went fishing."

"Where?"

"In the river, near Harbor Branch."

"The Indian River Lagoon?"

"Yeah."

"Did a fish bite you?"

"No, a fish didn't bite me," David laughed.

"Wait," Delta reminded him, "You got fin pricked."

"Where?"

"Here, on his right ankle." The two pin pricks were still visible.

"That's when it all started falling into place," Delta recalled. "The doctor said, 'I'm pretty sure I know what's going on, but we have to get you into intensive care.' "

David was taken by ambulance to Tradition Medical Center emergency room about 3 p.m.

He was coherent that night, but the pain had spread to his knee. His foot was black. Where there had been just one red streak going up his leg, now there were about 30.

He was given two shots of morphine, records show.

Monday

Delta finally heard the words "Vibrio vulnificus," and was told the bacteria had affected every organ in David's body except his liver.

By this time, David was being pumped full of what one doctor called "Godzilla antibiotics."

"They were doing everything they could," Delta said, "and nothing was stopping it. I think the doctors were shocked at how fast the infection moved."

David flat-lined and was revived six times.

He was dead by 11 a.m., almost exactly 48 hours after he was fin pricked.

None of the Trudell family has been fishing in the Indian River Lagoon since.

"We don't even talk about the river anymore," Delta said. "We went fishing every weekend, and I don't even want to go on a boat ride anymore. I don't want to go near that river. We love this area, and we love being on the water, but my grandkids are not going to get in that river. We've got a swimming pool for that."

In the Trudell home hangs a photo of David, beaming and holding a huge snook, caught in the lagoon near the South Bridge in Fort Pierce.

"The only thing that pacifies me is that we had a great day of fishing that day," Delta said, "and David was doing what he loved."

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