This blog was not originally intended to be a writing blog, but a cheap way to get a website portfolio and resume. But occasionally, I will write something just because…
Everyone has had a glimpse of living hell in their life, an illness or injury so agonizing that it makes you wish for a brief moment or two that you would just die so that it would end. Maybe it’s a singular event, or an ordeal over the course of months. Either way, as a priest once said to me, “Everyone suffers, and to that person, the worst thing they have suffered through is the worst suffering they could ever imagine.” I have had many stories of suffering in my life, both physical and emotional suffering. For the sake of a brief post, I will pick one of the shorter and funnier stories of my physical suffering to amuse you (I have many of these that are more scary than funny, but I thought I would start off on a light note).
I grew up in St. Louis, Missouri, and was generally unafraid to go into and live in the somewhat “iffy” neighborhoods. I was generally adventurous in my younger days, and that adventurous spirit included a willingness to try any food from any type of restaurant. And that is how I think this came to be, but in reality I never can be certain. I went for a bite to eat with some friends at a gas-station-turned-Mexican-diner in the Latino neighborhood, and about twenty-four hours later began the most treacherously painful four days in my adult life. ANYTHING I TRIED TO PUT INTO MY BODY CAME BACK OUT WITHIN MINUTES, ONE WAY OR ANOTHER…………INCLUDING MEDICINE!!!!!!!!!!!
On day two of fearing to be more than twenty feet from a toilet, I went so far as to make arrangements for my mother to pick up my paycheck from work and deposit it via ATM, because I did not think I could go that long without needing to make a mad dash for the restroom. On day three, I risked a ten minute drive to an urgent care facility, where I was diagnosed with Montezuma’s Revenge, a disease common among vacationers returning from Mexico. The doctor refused to believe that I contracted this on U.S. soil, stating that if this was true, then I am the only case he was aware of where someone contracted Montezuma’s Revenge in the Midwest. On day four, I finally acknowledged the painful fact that until this passed through my system, that the ONLY thing I could consume without my body rejecting was ice chips. Day five, it was probably out of my system, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat or drink anything to test if the antibiotics had worked or not. I simply toughed out the hunger pains (which were now more desirable to me than more dry-heaving and vomiting)
Final summation, “Don’t trust food cooked in any gas station, even if it has been technically converted into a restaurant or diner.”