Last night I made the world’s first loaf of toast.
After a full 48 hours of being on my death-bed, I felt the need to nurture myself with some wholesome food. Turns out, I’m not really very good at that.
Considering my recent posts on being scared to eat just about anything because it’ll either kill me or render me malnourished, and my subsequent rebellion and hamburger eating, I really got myself into trouble. Something I ate on Thursday evening was out to get me with a vengeance.
After spending an entire night awake, in severe pain and vociferously losing my dinner, I woke my beloved up at dawn with a tearful entreaty to get me to the hospital pronto.
Three hours later, I was still hooked up to a drip and my stomach was smeared with some kind of gel to make the scanner read my insides more clearly. After ruling out appendicitis (I’m glad of that because I believe scientists have recently discovered it’s actually a very useful organ) and gallstones (apparently I have a good looking gall bladder – radiologists are a bit strange I think), I felt rather sheepish lying on a wheelie bed with pipes attached to my throbbing hand (where they viciously plugged in the drip – with no less than three concoctions marching into my system).
Turns out there’s nothing really very wrong with me. At the time, you seriously could have fooled me. I’m not often given to drama and tend to really stiffen my upper lip whenever sickness or pain comes around, but this time, I thought my whole world was about to end.
Perhaps medicine isn’t as clever as it presents itself. I’m still feeling pretty grim and yet I even now don’t know what my final diagnosis was. After paying more than some people earn in a month for my experience in the emergency ward, you’d think I’d know a little more (my medical aid didn’t cover that particular adventure). There’s a coded diagnosis on the sick note they printed out for me and yet even Google won’t render a sensible response.
So, for now, I’ve learned to stay away from trying to bake nourishing whole wheat, quinoa-infused bread and to stick to plain steamed veggies for a while. Believe me, my rebellious body and I aren’t going to be visiting any gourmet restaurants in the near future.
Here’s to a healthier Monday and some warm broth to soothe the soul and keep the doctor really far away.