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"Mom," the voice quavered through the crackle of the international connection, "I've got some bad news."

Surely anyone hearing those words from a loved one would react as I did: a sharp intake of breath, a lump in the throat thudding into the pit of the stomach, sweaty palms.

Whatever pronouncement was forthcoming from Emily, a reassuring hug would be weeks away. My 20-something daughter was in Cochabamba, Bolivia, for a month, volunteering as a medical assistant at a local clinic. Bolivia. Three long plane flights away.

I had a flashback to last winter when Emily began talking it up. "Doesn't it sound amazing?" she had enthused. "I can really make a difference. And I can improve my Spanish, too."

Although I deeply admire my daughter's altruism, to say that I was less than thrilled is putting it mildly. And as a natural worrier, I was able to quickly tick off the negatives: poverty, diseases, unsanitary conditions, political unrest. Was there political unrest? I wasn't sure, but I went with it.

So she launched into a full-court press, peppering my inbox with upbeat articles about up-and-coming Cochabamba. The travel section of The New York Times had touted the area as a "must see" for adventurous travelers, she pointed out.

I still wasn't convinced. Just scanning the list of recommended vaccinations gave me the willies.

"Em, do you understand the risks?" I argued. "Malaria. Snakes. Big insects. What if you get bitten?'

This is, in fact, what she was calling to tell me. She got bitten. But not by a bug.

By a monkey.

Dear reader, do not apologize for suppressing a giggle. I confess to a fleeting notion, a teeny tiny thought in a remote recess of my brain, that this scenario might be kind of funny. But that impulse quickly gave way to panic. My mind was clicking as I began to ask questions and process what needed to happen.

Does it hurt? Not really.

Did you see a doctor? No, there weren't any doctors.

Did you get any medical attention? I went to a pharmacy and got antibiotics.

When can you leave? As soon as possible.

I told her to start packing while I called the airline.

What I would learn later was that Emily and a few friends were visiting a nearby nature preserve. This Bolivian version of "Great Adventure" served as family entertainment for the locals. Swarms of people - including tons of noisy kids - hiked on its trails. Monkeys roamed freely and, accustomed to the sounds and movements of humans, interacted calmly with the visitors.

Until my daughter arrived.

What turned this serene simian into a pernicious primate? It was likely Emily's decision to crouch down to monkey eye level. With a monkey mama and baby nearby, this was a Bad Idea. SCREECH! SCREECH! The monkey alarm system was activated. As if in a scene from a horror version of "The Lion King," an alpha monkey grabbed a tree and started shaking it violently. A hush shrouded the onlookers. The only sound was the ominous rustling of leaves. Monkey minions lurking nearby looked up with curiosity. One by one, they muttered their displeasure. The chattering intensified. Emily's monkey, just a couple of feet away, bared his teeth in a fearsome grin, lunged toward her and sank his teeth into her calf.

She screamed. He gripped her leg. She tried to pry him off. What seemed like hours was probably less than a minute, but he finally released her. They glared at each other (another Bad Idea, for those of you who might be in monkey company some day). She backed away and slowly headed down the trail. Her attacker followed for a few steps, then thought to leave well enough alone. He probably strutted proudly in front of his bare-assed buddies back at the ranch.

At times like this, you think about what could have been, and you are thankful for escaping with minimal damage. I was able to get my daughter on the next plane home. It was a grueling journey, but she was seen by our local doctors just 48 hours after the incident, and except for the painful rabies shots she endured, she was no worse for the wear.

Despite everything, she has fond memories of her time in Bolivia. And now we can look back and laugh.

- Helene Cohen Bludman

Helene Cohen Bludman blogs at Books is Wonderful about the quirks of midlife, parenting adult children, modern culture and, or course, books. She left a career in marketing to become a full-time writer.