Charcoal Capsules (And a Death Wish)

This is not a topic about which I usually write (thank merciful heavens). It borderlines on too much information, however, once one has survived a catastrophic event, it is not unusual to want to discuss the trauma and share The Event with others. Today, as a survivor, I feel the need to tell my story.

Here at Mayhem Manor, our motto and battle cry is "the diet starts tomorrow!" And so, when it was time last night to prepare the broiled swordfish and fresh green beans I had intended to serve for dinner, we instead veered a hard left and made the decision to order pizza. Here is where my horror story begins: with three different kinds of meat and little plastic tubs of garlic sauce (I read recently that Papa Johns is now going to sell the stuff by the gallon, so I take comfort in realizing I am not the only glutton in this big, wide world). After feasting on our pizza, appropriately named "The Works," I threw all caution--and my notable history of having a jittery stomach--to the wind and capped off my meal with Hot Tamales, a cinnamon gummy candy. In hindsight, I can practically hear Jack Nicholson as the Joker in the movie Batman asking me, "Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?"

Later, as I brushed my teeth and started getting ready for bed, I still felt full. Stuffed, in fact. Then I got the bright idea to head to the kitchen to my arsenal of supplements to see if I should take a little something to counter the effects of my Italian extravaganza dinner. Now that I've turned forty, I have developed a series of medical maladies, none of which are severe enough to require a prescription, and a real interest in natural ways to treat whatever might be ailing me at any given moment. I opened the cabinet that contains Susie's shelf-of-wellness and perused my stash.

My cache of feel good supplies.

Naturally (no pun intended), I found just the thing: a bottle of recently purchased charcoal capsules that are for detoxification after eating or drinking. I bought these specifically in the hopes of enjoying two glasses of wine without getting a crippling headache, but I decided that a family reunion with Papa John was also a fitting occasion, and popped two capsules before heading to bed. 

CHARCOAL CAPSULES.

Even now, in the light of day after the crisis has passed, those two words fill me with dread and regret. Around 11:00, what had begun as minor discomfort had turned into stabbing stomach pain. On a scale of 1 to 10, I rated this a solid 9. Doubled over in agony, I headed down hall to our guest bathroom, banging my funny bone on the door frame along the way...and that actually felt good compared to the war being waged in my intestines. I will spare you details, but my stomach felt like two ninjas were doing battle--a full-on fight to the death. Had I been poisoned? No, charcoal is the universal antidote for poisoning, so that couldn't be the case. Had anyone ever died from stomach cramps? I decided, even if this was not the ideal circumstance, I was ready for the good Lord to take me home rather than have me continue to suffer this agony. But, alas, it was not my time. 

CHARCOAL CAPSULES.

I staggered back to bed, a chalky Pepto Bismol mustache still covering my upper lip. I was disgusted by the sight of both my husband and my faithful dog snoring away in blissful slumber, unaware of my ailing condition. I briefly considered spiking Clint's next meal with some of these wonderful capsules, but decided it was too cruel...both for him to endure, and for me to have to put up with (sick men and their bevy of complaints are worse than any stomach upset EVER). I tossed, I turned, I got up two more times to go to the bathroom. Have you ever noticed, when you are in any sort of gastric distress, what an oasis the bathroom becomes for you? I thought it might be my final resting place; I willed the rest of the cruel world to go on without me. My insides were clenched as tightly as Hillary Clinton's fists whenever someone mentions the 2016 election. I slept off and on, curled in the fetal position from the stabbing pain, wearing long sleeves and wrapped in blankets because of the chills I was suffering.

CHARCOAL CAPSULES.

I woke up this morning, feeling weak but thankful that my overnight ordeal was over. I managed to get down a piece of toast with peanut butter for breakfast and walk the dog for half his normal route. If this is detoxification, give me all the toxins from here on out. I'm not sure there is a moral to this story, but it will be a cold day in Cabo before I scarf down an entire loaf of bread dipped into garlic butter sauce again. If anyone is into masochism, I still have an entire bottle of these little charcoal vixens that you are welcome to enjoy. And the menu for dinner tonight will be the fish and vegetables that my guardian angel tried to feed me yesterday. Carpe diem, people...and steer clear of the charcoal.

Take two of these and call me...after the longest night of your life.