I had a really bad ending to a great night last Wednesday. As usual, I was out watching Hercules Mulligan with the great Marquise at the Cary Hibernian. We did our usual, I was there on time, she was late, I ordered and ate before she arrived, she ordered and ate throughout the evening, we both drank. Now I admit it, I drank a little more than I usually do, but just a little. (the Hercs were great, as usual) When I got home that evening, I was feeling a little queasy. I figured, it was just that "little bit" of extra Guinness. Well, it wasn't. At 1am all hell broke loose. The bathroom and I became close friends. If you haven't guessed by now, I got food poisoning. I know it was from dinner, and I also know it wasn't something rampant in the restaurant because the Marquise had the same meal as I did and she did not get sick. I was lucky, however. I only had to go through 24 hrs of hell and another 24 of purgatory before I started feeling better. Unlike the Marquise who went through about 36 hours of hell and another 3-4 days of purgatory when she underwent her gustatory dilemma earlier this year. It had been many years since the last time I had food poisoning and I had forgotten how horrible it makes you feel. Everything hurts. You don't want to move, but you have to get up every "so often" and make a bathroom run. Once all the fireworks stop and you think you are on the road to improvement, your GI tract reminds you it is still not happy every time you drink a glass of anything more filling than air. And then comes round 2 and you get to start all over again! YIPEE!
Well, my bacterial experiments are over, hopefully for another 20 or so years.
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