The Christmas That Wasn’t

 

Well this is what I get for giving myself one really decadent Christmas Eve meal, food poisoning.  And my poor friend Logan, who loves a good meal better than any human on earth, he too got whatever horrible e-coli bug I did.  The good news is that the rest of our families some how escaped the gut wrenching bug.

 

I think the culprit was the last minute kale salad.  It was the only raw thing we had and is most suspect.  I tried not to eat very large amounts of the terribly rich food, but that night as I lay in bed I told Russ that my system just could not take that kind of food anymore.  Through the night I thought I heard the sounds of hooves on the roof, but it was probably the delirium starting to set in and not Santa visiting our house.  By morning I was sick as a dog.

 

So I slept through Christmas.  It was pitiful and sad.  Russ, Carter and Shay went up to my parents without me.   Only Shay was happy to get to run free at the farm and really didn’t notice I was not there.

 

The part about Christmas I missed the most was giving my presents.  I know that I was an unenthusiastic opener myself on Christmas morning when Russ and Carter were so excited about the things they had lovingly picked out for me.  I would like a whole do over of the day so I can properly show my loved ones how much they and their kindnesses mean to me.

 

The only good thing about the whole situation was the three pounds I lost, but I know that as soon as I eat again they will find me.  The good news is for my next party I am going to have a caterer.  I am doing my best not to kill any guests or myself ever again.  I hope you had the best Christmas ever, that all the sweaters you got flatter you and that nothing went right into the regifting closet.

The Christmas That Wasn’t

 

Well this is what I get for giving myself one really decadent Christmas Eve meal, food poisoning.  And my poor friend Logan, who loves a good meal better than any human on earth, he too got whatever horrible e-coli bug I did.  The good news is that the rest of our families some how escaped the gut wrenching bug.

 

I think the culprit was the last minute kale salad.  It was the only raw thing we had and is most suspect.  I tried not to eat very large amounts of the terribly rich food, but that night as I lay in bed I told Russ that my system just could not take that kind of food anymore.  Through the night I thought I heard the sounds of hooves on the roof, but it was probably the delirium starting to set in and not Santa visiting our house.  By morning I was sick as a dog.

 

So I slept through Christmas.  It was pitiful and sad.  Russ, Carter and Shay went up to my parents without me.   Only Shay was happy to get to run free at the farm and really didn’t notice I was not there.

 

The part about Christmas I missed the most was giving my presents.  I know that I was an unenthusiastic opener myself on Christmas morning when Russ and Carter were so excited about the things they had lovingly picked out for me.  I would like a whole do over of the day so I can properly show my loved ones how much they and their kindnesses mean to me.

 

The only good thing about the whole situation was the three pounds I lost, but I know that as soon as I eat again they will find me.  The good news is for my next party I am going to have a caterer.  I am doing my best not to kill any guests or myself ever again.  I hope you had the best Christmas ever, that all the sweaters you got flatter you and that nothing went right into the regifting closet.


The Reason I Never Become a Nurse

Poor Carter missed a day of school last week for surgery and then was sick this morning so she stayed home again.  The reason I say poor Carter is not the fact that she missed two days of school or that she had these things happen to her, it’s that I am her mother.  See, I am a very poor nurse.  I think it runs in my family.

 

When I was a kid we lived in a giant rambling barn of a house.  My parents slept on the top floor on one end of the house and I slept on the bottom floor on the other end.  If I ever got sick in the night there was no crying out for help because certainly no adult would hear you and no sibling would care.

 

Here is how an illness would go…  I would wake up and throw up; sometimes I made it to the bathroom.  I would cry, actually wail, no one would come.  So after what felt like a lifetime of being alone in the wilderness I would pull myself up the back barn stairs that had risers that were twelve inches tall, think climbing a ladder and still wailing, drag myself the length of the big living room which felt like Lawrence of Arabia crossing the Sahara.

 

Crawling on all fours I would open just the bottom half of my parent’s bedroom Dutch door where I would make my way to their bed.  Clinging to my mother’s side, I would lift the down pillow that was covering her head to drown out the snoring coming from my father, “I threw up,” I would whine.  No response.  “I’m sick,” I would say louder.  Nothing.  The smell of sickness on my nightgown should have woken the dead, but nothing.

 

I eventually retreated to my father’s side of the bed and I would push his shoulder.  “I’m not snoring,” he would say in automatic response to his shoulder being pushed in his sleep.  “No, it’s Dana.  I’m sick.”  A voice finally responds, but I am still not sure which parent it was, “Go sleep in the guest room.”

 

That was the model of care I grew up with.  That is the model I follow today.  If you are sick, sleep it off.  If you have surgery, go back to school the next day.  If you are sick you still better get your homework done.  If you are sick, please don’t make anyone else sick.  If you aren’t well you are getting the worst possible food.

 

If you need care I’m not your girl.  There are many things I will tell you I’m good at, many I have never even tried, but taking care of sick people, even my own sweet off spring is not my thing.  So feel sorry for Carter, not because she is sick, but because I’m her mother.


Sick Benefits

OK I have whined all week about my child having the flu and my having a full-on respiratory take over which has turned into a post nasal drip cold and cough.  Enough already.  We certainly are not the only sick people on earth.  But I think what ever is going on here might be something other people just might want.

 

What?  Why would I ever think you would want my illness?  Well, how’s your New Year diet going?  Having a little trouble now in week three keeping off the Cheezits?  My particular type of sickness is the answer.  I have lost nine pounds since the first of the year and none of that was water weight, since I sucked all the water out of me months ago.

 

It’s not like I’m not eating.  I am opposed to starvation.  Even though I don’t feel like it I am putting food in me, not much, but still enough to not throw my metabolism into some kind-of Bangladesh-style famine.  Still every morning I get on the scale and another pound is down.  This is the karma I pray for.  I’ve been good and now I feel like the stuff that comes out of the non-cute end of my dog, so some higher being is rewarding me for this suffering, Thank you Baby Jesus.

 

My friend Hannah reminded me of the greatest quote from The Devil Wears Prada, “I’m just one stomach flu away from my goal weight.”  Well I’m at least seven flu’s away from mine, but I’m not going to look this gift horse in the mouth.  I do have the feeling that this weight loss can’t go on like this so I would just prefer to get well.

 

For those of you desperate enough to get your diet back on track I am thinking of leaving some used drinking glasses on my front porch.  Feel free to come by and borrow one, but just excuse me if I don’t come to the door.  I really don’t look my best and of course I’m already in my Lanz nightgown under the blanket and the sun is still high in the sky.

 

I have not revised my goal to lose eleven pounds by March 1 get because I want to see what happens when I get better.  I’d hate to be all cocky like this is real fat gone and up my goal number and then find out that as soon as I am better five pounds magically reappears.  I’ll keep you posted, like I have anything else to do stuck in bed.


Tight and Not The Good Kind

The sick is coming.  I knew when I woke up and my chest was tight that I did not have long.  Normally tight is something I can only aspire to and when it comes to my chest it is height I would rather have, but I digress.

 

Breathing is getting harder and I am hardly moving.  It is just a matter of time.  The real tale-tale sign that sickness is trying to take over my body is that I have no hunger what so ever.  I never know what that saying is, starve a cold, feed a fever or vice-a-versa, but I wish I could harness the lack of desire to eat and trot it out when I actually did not feel like a whole other me was sitting on my chest.

 

I am normally good at staving off full-blown illness.  I can have a down day and then wake up the next morning and feel fine so I am hoping that is how this is going to go.  But I wouldn’t mind the lack of hunger part to stay a while.  Usually for me weight I lose because I was sick is not sustaining which makes no sense to me at all.

 

Why if you don’t eat much for a few days when you are well and drop a pound or two you can keep it off, but when you are sick and can’t eat you still lose those same few pounds, but as soon as you are better they come right back?  There is just no good in being sick.

 

I do have a theory that heavier people are able to recover from sickness faster than very thin people who have no reserves to carry them through that no eating time.  Maybe that is how I am able to only be sick for a day.  There is just too much body for a virus to have to travel trough so it gets tired and gives up.  Maybe fat is a bad conduit for germs?  They get sluggish trying to trudge through that goop, unlike lean muscle, which could be just like a germ super highway through a fit body.

 

Since I am clearly no scientist, I will have to continue to study my own path and see what other hair-brained theories I can come up with.  Maybe my reduction of airflow will make me lightheaded so I can start hallucinating.  That could make for some really wonderful writing.

 

For now, I am going to have my own concoction of ginger-lime tea and try and do battle with my tightness.


No Way To Lose Weight

My great friend Lynn has had a terrible week.  First she got food poisoning so bad that she had to go the emergency room where they kept her for six hours.  Then last night her cat had a heart attack right in front of her and is now in kitty heaven.

Lynn is a world-class animal lover so she has taken this loss harder than the average pet owner and still being weak from the food poisoning has not helped.

To try and help her take her mind off her beloved cat I picked Lynn up and whisked her off to the place that makes her happier than anyplace on earth, Starbucks.  While there enjoying her Venti Green tea latte, with two pumps and no foam (I know her order by heart, but don’t really know what it means) we got to discussing how much weight you lose when you are sick.  Although Lynn has nary an ounce to spare, food poisoning can really do a number on your number on the scale.

This conversation brought back to mind the worst time I ever was sick.  Back in the 80’s when I was selling mail opening and extracting machines, yes, reread that last thing, I sold machines that opened envelopes and took the contents out.  So, back then I used to travel four states selling and then installing these big machines.

They were called OPEX machines and the kind of companies that bought them were ones who were getting lots of mail everyday full of money.  Places you pay your bills to…   think banks, utilities and mail order houses.  My territory, being in the south, also had the majority of televangelists as clients too; Jerry Falwell, Jim and Tammy Faye Baker and Pat Robertson.

One week when I was about 25 years old I was spending four days at Pat Robertson’s Christian Broadcasting Network (CBN) campus installing twelve new OPEX machines.  CBN needed so many machines because the 700 Club TV show received hundreds of thousands of envelopes a week all with money in them.

I will never forget the sweet woman Gail, who ran the donations department.  She was a calm Christian woman who was one of my nicest clients.

Installing new equipment meant that I had to train her whole department of three shifts of workers how to run the machines.  Running a mail-opening machine is about the easiest job on earth, but teaching people to do it day, evening and midnight shifts was not.  My first day there went fine, but by the second day I was not feeling well, and I mean really rough.

Gail came out on the shop floor and could see by the gray color I had taken on that I was not well.  I told her I thought I needed to go back to the hotel and she said she had a better place to take me first.

CBN was Christian Broadcasting Network University (Now known as Regent University), so I thought Gail was taking me to a nurse or the infirmary.  Practically delirious with a fever she guided me down long hallways until she opened a door of a giant room that was bright and full of people.  At first I thought I had died and this was heaven because there was beautiful music playing and the light was blinding.

Before I knew where I was Gail had led me down an aisle and up to a stage.  When then music stopped I heard her voice, strangely amplified, ask someone to heal me that I was sick.  I felt people touching me and just then I threw up all over the floor.

As horrible as it was to throw up I felt suddenly better for just a moment and in that brief second I realized I was not at an infirmary, but I was on a television set.  Gail had brought me to be “healed” and I had thrown up on live TV.  I saw the cameras and the audience and turned and ran, somehow finding my way out.

I have little memory of driving myself back to my Hampton Inn where I stayed holed up in my room for two days sick, as could be.  I eventually improved enough to drive myself back home to Washington D.C.   My service tech finished the install at CBN without me.

A month later I had to return to CBN and see Gail.  She was said I looked much better.  I asked her if I was the first to throw up on the TV show and she said yes, as far as she knew.  I told her the only good part was that I had lost 9 pounds that week from being sick.  We both agreed that it was the worst possible way to lose weight.