Daily MOS: The Australian Suicide Shrub

An close up image of the trichomes on the gympie gympie plant. Image Source: smithsonianmag.com

(content note: brief discussion of suicide)

Imagine telling a screenwriter “there’s a place where everything can fucking kill you in creative and terrifying ways, write something as absurd as your dreams can take you.” After several dozen drafts and more drugs than I care to mention, that document might come close to describing the wonder, delight, and fuckery that is Australia.

With all the animals that would be more than happy to carve you up and dump you below them on the food chain, it’s both unsurprising and unnerving that even Australia’s plants will make you beg for the sweet release of death.

Today’s Moment of Science… the gympie gympie plant.

Within the plant kingdom, distant relatives in the order Rosales include roses, hops, cannabis, and this bastard child. A much closer cousin of the nettle, virtually its entire genus is composed of itchy scratchy little douchebags.

Whereas plants not engaged in Australia-grade evolutionary games may have an innocent layer of fuzz, this entire plant is covered with cunty little needle-like fibers called trichomes. They break off the plant with the slightest touch, becoming impossibly embedded in the skin for months, years, or until you Lady MacBeth your flesh off. Their cocktail of toxic peptides is readily released by the most minor of triggers, including temperature changes, contact with water, or merely touching the area.

The pain of coming into contact with the gympie gympie has been described as akin to “hot acid and electrocution” together. It can cause severe allergic reactions, to the point of anaphylactic shock. The lymph nodes swell, the joints ache. The trichomes also shed naturally, floating in the air, readily embedding themselves in the skin or lungs of any innocent passerby naive enough to think Australia wouldn’t take a swipe at them. Inhaling the fibers can cause nosebleeds along with lung and throat irritation.

It’s sometimes called the suicide plant, but not because it’s used to aid in the act. Unplanned run-ins with it have been known to cause such severe torment that it’s driven some past the edge of desperation. There are tales of horses going mad and jumping from cliffs after exposure. Dr. Marina Hurley researched the plant extensively and, despite all precautions, was stung severely enough to need hospitalization. One horrifying story from WWII involves a man making the ill-informed decision to use the leaf for toilet paper. He subsequently put a bullet in his head.

If you haven’t been explicitly warned, you could easily mistake it for any old innocuous bush. It doesn’t come with bright colors or flashy warnings. It’s just a super goddamn cranky leaf that’s out to fuck up your life.

The chemical cocktail that makes this shrub such a fucking piece of work was a relatively recent discovery. For years scientists had been able to identify histamine, acetylcholine, and formic acid in the trichomes. They’re not exactly pleasant but there was no good reason why they would induce such torment. Then, in the fall of 2020, a team at the University of Queensland identified a new class of toxic peptides in the plant, deemed ‘gympietides.’ From this breakthrough, it’s been hypothesized that the severe pain is not due to physical damage from the embedded trichomes, but essentially a type of chemical nerve damage.

The discovery will hopefully lead to new treatment options for the unfortunate souls who thought it wise to tangle with Australian wildlife. For now, one of the most common treatments? Waxing. Because when you feel like you’re being electrocuted and covered in hot acid, nary a more Australian comfort in the world than ripping microscopic toxic needles out of your flesh with hot wax.

This has been your daily Moment of Science, getting suspicious that the entire continent of Australia is a prank that’s gotten out of hand.

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About SciBabe 375 Articles
Yvette d'Entremont, aka SciBabe, is a chemist and writer living in North Hollywood with her roommate, their pack of dogs, and one SciKitten. She bakes a mean gluten free chocolate chip cookie and likes glitter more than is considered healthy for a woman past the age of seven.

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