My gut feels odd. Just a little ping here and there, but it gives me pause. Oh well, best not to think about it.
My childhood friend Chips and I are in her car. We are leaving for Palm Springs for our annual vacation with five of our other childhood friends. We all gather some place once a year.
Day One: I have the pings. Then after I eat a meal, I feel strangely too full.
Day Two: I don’t eat. I have gripping pains in my gut and snorting, stinking roiling gas. I sound like a tuba.
“Don’t worry,” I tell my concerned friends, “I just ate too much raw food for a few days before I left home and raw blended stuff. It’s good for you, you know…but, I think maybe not for me.”
Day Three: I think I may die. I’m nauseous. I can hardly stand up.
When my eyes start rolling around in a restaurant, the girls insist I go to Emergency.
I have a phobia about doctors and diseases. I tell my friends I would rather die than go to Emergency at the hospital.
My friends think I may be close to death. They’re alarmed, and cart me off to the hospital. (more…)