Adventures in Food Poisoning:
Observations from being bedridden for two days due to *food poisoning:
*May not have been food poisoning. Maybe it was a virus. Maybe it was an allergic reaction to sarcasm. Maybe I was suffering from Honey Bee Colony Collapse Disorder. Maybe I had a serious shortage of cow bell.
In any case, the symptoms were similar enough to food poisoning and a lot easier to write than this clarification that I just didn’t see the point in stating anything *other than food poisoning in my facebook posts on the subject. *This clarification being the exception.
Which posts? These posts:
- Sunday, June 2, 2pm: The great thing about food poisoning
- Monday, June 3, 5:38pm: Ok fine, I’ll try getting up
Observations from being bedridden for two days due to *food poisoning:
1. How ill was I? Let me put it this way:
If we judge an illness by how far one will make an effort to travel in order to get something that one needs — even if said item, such as ibuprofen or digestive enzyme supplements, will make one feel better, for the majority of the two days I spent bedridden, the distance I was willing to travel did not exceed the length of my arm while lying down.
This was also a time that even when an object — such as a cell phone — was within reach, holding that object aloft for more than *15 seconds was simply too much effort.
*Of course, the sensation of time becomes drastically distorted when you are that ill and that stationary for that long. Could have been 5 seconds. Could have been 55 seconds. I think you get the point.
2. It is entirely possible to feel like every fiber of your being is being sucked towards the center of the earth due to the effects of triple gravity. At this time, your body will comfortably conform to any horizontal surface, regardless of how uncomfortable you know it is at all other times.
Body: “Oh yessss, this *pile of rocks with nails and bits of glass in it will do nicely.”
*Although much of it feels like a blur, I’m pretty sure I did not (knowingly) sleep on a pile of rocks with nails and bits of glass in it. The previous statement was simply for illustrative purposes.
3. For every 10 minutes that I spent standing (such as to shower — because I *had* to (Had to) or other fun “adventures” I had) — my body exacted an immediate sleep toll of 2-3 hours of *sick sleeping.
*It should be noted that sick sleeping is not the “fun” kind of sleeping. Sick sleeping is not even as fun as holy-crap-that-was-an-awful-nightmare! kind of sleeping.
4. I am sure there are many variations of sick sleeping. My version involved my brain getting stuck on a sort of infinite loop and fixating on it in dream-time.
Each time I slept over the course of over 24 hours (despite interruptions of consciousness), I had the same 5 second loop of a dream involving the the organizing of a website navigation menu (which is one of the things I did the day before I got ill) with the click and drag of a mouse.
This may not sound so bad until you picture having to watch this same 5 second procedure, on repeat, for 30+ hours of sleep time over two days.
I can still picture it in my head.
*shivers*
I realized I might finally be on the road to recover when I fell asleep and had a different dream.
4. Apparently it is possible for your body to just decide not to digest anything solid.
Stomach to body: “Hey! No more solids until further notice!”
*tries to sneak in a few innocent looking chia seeds*
Stomach to body: “What are you, a wise guy? We said NO solids! Here –“
5. There is a point before throwing up where you absolutely dread the idea of doing so.
“Oh please, anything but that.”
And then, there is a point after you have done so, that you wish you could do so again so you can simply feel better. In fact, you think this a lot:
“Oh please, if only I could throw up.”
I actually entertained myself of thinking about Kid Cudi’s outro from the last 30 seconds of Pursuit of Happiness:
If you’re unfamiliar with it, it goes like this:
Ugh.
Ah, man.
Ugh, Alright, Ugh.
Room’s spinning. Room’s spinning. Matt…Zulie… wait.
Oh my god why did I drink so much and smoke so much?
Ah. Ugh, fuck.
Mostly the “Ugh. Ah, man. Ugh. Alright. Ugh. Room’s spinning. Matt…Zulie… wait. Ah. Ugh, fuck.” parts, as there was no drinking or smoking involved.
Here it is cued up for your if you want to hear it: “Pursuit of Happiness (cued at 4m20s)”
I don’t know why that piece of that song came to mind — as (other than watching some cloud pass out the window) I had no visual or auditory entertainment while I ill — and I didn’t even know I was that familiar with that section of the song, but my brain was on auto pilot.
I also thought — while lying there — that perhaps this was some sort of weird karmic hangover debt that I failed to pay in my youth.
“Remember the morning after the night you drank that six pack of Bartles & James wine coolers when you were 19 — and you experience no adverse side effects the morning after? Well, the universe insists on balance! Muahahaha!“
Although I’d much rather entertain the idea that perhaps I’ll get a nice hangover-free pass in the future. “All I can drink with no nasty morning-after side effects!?” Yeah, that sounds nice.
6. When it’s 4am, you’re sleeping in your car, you’re nowhere near a bathroom and you are about to reach the, uh, point of no return, any dark grassy spot looks like a great place to drop trou make an emergency safety deposit. That’s also the point where you begin to not give an eff about anything other than staying alive (which, in my mind, simply meant going back to sleep — inside. Not on someone’s lawn).
Good times.
7. There is a place between being ill — and not giving an eff about anything (such as your appearance) — and feeling better, where you still really (and sincerely) don’t really give an eff about anything. That is an interesting place mentally. It was a weird sort of in-the-moment contentment.
I want to remember that place.
8. After feeling that ill, there will be a time where you feel so much better, that you will think you feel as good as you can felt before you were sick. Which is quite interesting, because that feeling is a total lie.
You can (and will) continue to feel better. Which makes me wonder if my “100{82b2ded5ae086bbe31c001f0374079c9503b180ae813ec027549eb44365a9474}” is ever truly my “100{82b2ded5ae086bbe31c001f0374079c9503b180ae813ec027549eb44365a9474}”.
9. There is a place between being ill and recovery where the smell of food is simultaneously disgusting and enticing at the same time. That, too, is an interesting place.
“What a revolting smell! I think I want to eat that.”
Q&A:
What did you eat?
It’s difficult for me to tell if it was something I ate. Maybe it was a virus. I’m not sure. But my intuition tells me it was a result of the later-than-usual meal I had at a new (for me) sandwich shop location. In which case, my sandwich involved processed chicken (not a usual menu item for me) with a variety of raw vegetables.
Didn’t this happen [sometime] before?
Yes, I had a very similar experience on April 20, 2012. That time was more, uh, chaotic and nauseous physically. But this time left me much weaker. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this weak before.