Bones! Analysis! "He's dead, Jim"

Or so it felt.

I am posting this message while recuperating in the FTI sick bay.  The rhythmic, intermittent beeps  of the  single AA battery  powered monitor is the only sound in the room.  Gazing around and marveling at the tools and methods we have at our disposal here used to help heal the sick, I am constantly amazed and thankful;  the Mayo clinic has nothing on us.  Jars of leeches, rusted hacksaws, and ground leaves and twigs for making an herbal tea certainly accomplish the tasks to stop bleeding, perform amputations, or rid one of those pesky headaches that the big boys use.  And all without that expensive technology.    The cheap-assed Board of Directors took some heat when initially setting up our infirmary, but now, it appears to have been a stroke of genius.  I truly am blessed.

I will recount the immediate past history of how I got here in the first place, below.  The details may be a bit unpleasant; the mental images a bit unsettling.  Now, with full disclosure,  I suggest the weak-kneed among our readership pass on today's posting and return again another day when we discuss something more benign, like newly discovered frugal habits of Dickie the Peap.  (Who knew pocket lint could be woven into a 4 x 5 area accent rug?) In the meantime, knowing that our loyal 2 member readership falls in one of 3 categories:

a) They mistakenly set this as their homepage and don't know how to change it, so, they have to come here;

b)  They think if they click on this page enough times, they will qualify for a free prize;

c)  They come here to just to make fun of me and leave some smart-assed crack to provoke me;

I will proceed while realizing that option "C"   is the heavy odds-on favorite as the correct answer.

Sunday night at approximately 12:30 am, I awoke to my stomach gurgling and growling and a sudden convulsion that shook me all the way up to my throat; I figure I better get to the restroom.  Fast.  Kicking the covers off, I made into the restroom and stood there, Nothing.  Now, there normally aren't false alarms on this kind of stuff, so, I thought I would hang out for a few minutes.  I lifted the toilet seat and sat down on the floor next to the toilet.  Sure enough, about 30 seconds later, the wave started up from my midsection and I wretch just enough to get a bit of food out, but nothing significant.  Of course, the fact that my body gave it a full effort does not come into play.  A little or a lot, it still hurts.   I sound like a wounded Zombie as I lean over and spew.  Oh, no.  Realizing this wasn't going to be very pleasant, I wait there again for wave number 2.  As I am sitting on the floor and preparing for the next grand event,  I realize the sensation of a relaxed sphincter muscle now starting to make it's presence known as well.  Oh-oh.  Double trouble,  I am on the floor scrambling to get up and sit on the pot while furiously tugging at my underwear to clear the drop zone.  Sure enough, BAM!  Now I have got it going at both ends.  This scenario continued every half hour until 5 am with little to no sleep involved.   In the meantime, I alternate between cold shivering chills and dripping sweat  while I am on my knees paying homage to the porcelain God.  Finally, at 5 a.m. I cleared everything out and was able to fall asleep.    A bonus side effect if this whole matter?     It's so pleasant to feel that acid taste on your lips and inside of your mouth.  Of course, when I try to drink a bit of water to clear it, I end up tossing that right back  up as well.

I thought this was all related to the flu, but have since determined that Marv the Neighbor and his wife were sick as well Sunday night.  The significance of that?   Mrs. Kfred and I and he and his wife went out to dinner at a BBQ place Saturday night.  3 of the 4 of us ate potato salad.  Guess which 3 got sick in exactly the same manner?  I didn't have the flu.  I got food poisoning.  I always thought food poisoning came on quicker, but, subsequent research shows that it has a 12 to 72 hour incubation period.  I called the restaurant to notify them and, of course, mine was the first call.  I wasn't calling to threaten or beg a free meal.  I just wanted them to realize they may have a problem and to address their food handling procedures.   The manager at the end of the line was sympathetic and concerned, but, I didn't get the feeling that she thought they were involved.  Oh well.

I have had food poisoning one other time.  It is not pleasant. I am feeling a bit better today but will not be going to Dilbertland today, either.  I just am not up to my full strength.  Spring and summer are a comin'.  Picnics, barbeque's, out door meals are all a bunch of fun.  Just make sure when you load up on that second helping of Aunt Mae's famous potato salad that it has been handled correctly.  It isn't as great coming out as it was going in.