Wrightsville was a Green sea turtle who had the extreme misfortune of being in a terrible place at a terrible time. In May of 2008, Wrightsville was hit by a boat across the back of his shell. It's a miracle that the tiny turtle, who was only about the size of a football, even survived being struck by the propeller. Wrightsville arrived at the hospital for treatment on May 30th. At the time, I was enjoying my senior year of high school. Time flies, doesn't it?
Wrightsville's injury was across the lower half of his shell, directly above his pelvis. This is not a good place for a sea turtle to get hit by a boat. Due to the grievous injury, Wrightsville had some problems moving his rear flippers. This, in combination with the fact that a crab had ripped off most of his right 'arm' when he was a hatchling, made it rather difficult for Wrightsville to swim. So we kept him in a small tank in a quiet corner of the sea turtle hospital, treated his injuries, and fed him a lot of fish. It wasn't a great life, but I like to think that Wrightsville was thankful for it.
I met Wrightsville in June of 2008 after I graduated high school. I worked with him all summer and then went off to have the time of my life at Penn State. When I came back in 2009 Wrightsville was still there. He'd gained a little bit of weight over the winter, but there had been a complication that aroused with his recovery. Due to the fact that he couldn't move his rear flippers too well, Wrightsville had developed some problems passing food. In short: he was constipated.
Not many people can say that they've given a mineral water enema to a sea turtle. Fewer still can say that they've massaged a day's worth of digested fish and squid out of a cloaca. It was gross, it was messy, and it was humiliating for both parties, but it had to get done. Some days Wrightsville wouldn't have any problems at all passing his food--there's a wonderful picture of me holding him after he'd pooped all over my lap that I've attached below. Great times!
I left Wrightsville that fall to return to Penn State for another crazy year of education. I came back to Topsail that winter to visit, but I was honestly preoccupied with how large some of the other turtles had gotten to really notice Wrightsville. I'd like to think that I at least said hello to him, but I'm not really sure. What I do know is that while other turtles in rehab had doubled, tripled, or quadrupled in size and weight, Wrightsville hadn't grown at all.
I found myself back on Topsail Island in May of 2010 for another whirlwind internship summer. Wrightsville was still there, but he wasn't doing good. He hadn't willingly eaten in weeks and hadn't willingly had a bowel movement in longer. What little weight he'd gained over his two years was quickly lost as Wrightsville starved himself into a frustrating anorexia-like state that sea turtles sometimes convinced themselves into. We'd tried every combination of vitamins and electrolyte supplements we could in order to try and spark his appetite back into existence, but it wasn't working. Still though, we stayed positive.
On June 2nd, 2010, we released a whole bunch of sea turtles into the wild. That day was crazy: there was a thunderstorm, a power outage, a film crew videotaping everything, and a new turtle admitted to the hospital, all before 10:00 in the morning. We dodged lightning bolts and disorganized schoolchildren as we struggled to release these turtles back into the ocean. A wave knocked me over while I was helping to carry a 150-pound Loggerhead back into the sea. Crazy, right? Right. After the lunacy of the release we had to prepare the hospital for tours the following day, which meant a lot of plumbing and cleaning. It was, without a doubt, the craziest day I can remember at the sea turtle hospital.
But, when the release was over and everything had settled down, Wrightsville remained. I held him on the operating table that evening as we slipped an IV into his shoulder to give him his weekly dosage of electrolytes and vitamins to try and get him to eat. He barely struggled as we stuck him--not a good sign. I don't know why I did what I did next and I can't explain what happened after that. I'm not particularly religious or spiritual, but I closed my eyes anyways and silently spoke to Wrightsville.
"Buddy. Look, this isn't working. It's okay if you don't want to do this anymore."
He heard me and passed away the next morning.
