Sunday, May 20, 2007


Well, it was about this time last weekend that I was struck by a hideous case of food poisoning/stomach flu that lasted for almost five days.

I've eaten at Jacky's Bistro a number of times before and always had an excellent experience with it. I took Beth there for her first Mother's Day, thinking it would be a nice treat. The food tasted excellent as always, I had a steak, a salad, and a dessert cheese plate. I have had all of these things there before, and Beth had the same thing as me. Right around quarter of eleven on Saturday night (we went out early for Mother's Day hoping to beat the crowds), I started getting stomach cramps and nausea of a kind I've only felt a couple of times before. Fast forward to eighteen feverish, cramping, nauseated, vomiting hours later, I finally feel like most of whatever the hell I got has gone out of my upper GI tract. I go to work the next day, more or less functional, and Tuesday brings more nausea, weakness, and fever as the poison hits my lower digestive system. By Tuesday afternoon Beth talks me into going to see a doctor to make sure I haven't got anything John could get. I accede, and go. I get blood-work done for the first time in over 15 years, and my electrolytes are so low that my blood pressure dips to 102/70 and my heart stutters enough to make the doc order an EKG. Weirdly, my appetite disappears for four days, and all I can stand to put into my stomach is bottled water and popsicles.

Despite persistent diarrhea, weakness, achy joints, and eating essentially nothing for three days, I lose only two pounds. This, I decide, does not bode particularly well for my upcoming class reunion. I had hoped (with collossally cliched vanity, I'm sure) to bust my John-pregnancy weight off completely and get back down to the uber-slim version of myself from September of 2005. Oh well. An extra 15 pounds will probably just make me look like everyone else. Even the other dads, who had as much trouble as me "just saying no" to the Heath Bar Ben & Jerry's.

All self-deprecating bullshit aside, I'm glad to be healthy again, and here's to not having to go back to my physician for another five years or so.

Also, sadly, Red Ivy Afternoon was awarded the Bronze medal at the IPPY awards this year. As were the other four contestants who didn't get Gold or Silver. I certainly didn't mind losing to one of the contestants, a short story anthology featuring Neil Gaiman, one of the better gothic horror writers of the last ten years or so (author of the DC adult-targeted comic book Sandman). Oh well. I suppose Bronze wasn't bad for a first effort, and a book that got great reviews from all four people who actually read it.

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