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In Sickness and In Stealth

Years ago, I got food poisoning. 

Lying on the couch—10 or 11 or 12 a.m..; unsure—the repeating cycle of "I wish I would die" took 20-40 minutes, commencing immediately after I vomited.  Which was the exact point where I would feel better and convince myself that maybe it was over and that was the last time I'd have to vomit.  At 15-20 minutes post-vomit, I’d know better.  And the final 20 before the vomiting started up again was spent rocking on my knees, praying for a miracle.

I was supersick.   For 8 hours, I redecorated my bathroom with the hamburger I’d had for lunch.  Then with bile.  Then with the water I drank to keep from dying.     

Because I was so thirsty.  And shook violently because I was so cold.  And the cramps in my stomach were almost unbearable.

And, in that weak, painfilled, fearful state, I began hallucinating.  About prisoners of war.  And how I thought that the CIA was using food poisoning as a weapon of torture.  Making the prisoners vomit and dehydrated and weak—like me—to get information on where Saddam Hussein bought his bath mats.  And I cried in compassion for these horrible deeds being done in the name of our country.  And beseeched a higher power to help those poor people who were—at that very moment—being tortured by a super-secret stealth agent who was force-feeding the prisoners hamburgers made with bacteria-laden ground beef.

Yeah.  I was pretty freaking sick. 



I’m not overtly religious but I am just hypocritical enough to still celebrate the Christian holidays. 

I’m American, after all.  And our Constitution allows me to choose from a veritable buffet of incongruous experiences.  I am literally free to be as hypocritical as my fun-meter desires.  

So, like all regular, secular hypocrites, we do secular Easter.  Without all the muss and fuss of church and history and meaning.  We get eggs full of money and candy, and eat boiled eggs and toss out the orange and green Jolly Rancher jelly beans.   We wipe the chocolate onto our sweatpants as we watch the churchers pass by in their finery.

And somehow I’m okay with it.  The hypocrisy.  Because it kinda feels like Valentine’s Day or St. Patrick’s Day; a holiday that means something bigger but where the meaning gets kinda lost in the process of celebrating. 

One of my daughters called Easter the “zombie Jesus” day.   And I was like, “Well, technically Jesus was a spirit.”  And, I stopped myself, and furrowed my brow, not sure if that was true, and thought to myself, “Wait!  Wasn’t he?”  Or was it his body that got up?  And I wanted to look it up.  Because I became concerned about my grasp on the story.  Was Jesus a freaking zombie or not?

And there you have it.  Secular Easter.



I’m sick again with some virus the girls gave me. 

Last night—after egg dying--I could feel my lungs were raspy—the cough that was coming would be a doozy--and I needed to really focus to get enough air.  At some point, the twin pack of 1 centimeter airholes gracing my nose just weren’t cutting it, and I went to turbo-powered, oxygen-rich mouth breathing.   Collapsed on my bed, barely moving; and the girls—with knowing pity—shut off the lights in the house and made sure the doors were locked.

This morning, I was very groggy—coffee hadn’t kicked in--and under the weather, and on my way to pet sit.  Some guy was driving slower than my sickened patience could allow, and I cursed to myself about it.  The words “Stupid IDIOT!!!” were involved.  Or, you know, maybe another word.  

I was seriously overreacting, and realized it, so switched gears in my head, and was like, “Amy!  It’s freaking Easter.  Calm yourself down.” 

I had studied religions in college, and learned that—historically--Jesus was a real person.  Scholars also know that what was written in the Bible isn’t the entire truth; and, to me, it’s those parts that were left out that made him such a special person.

And, I guess that’s where my mind went this morning, because—before I could stop myself--my mind apologized to Jesus for besmirching his special day with my jerkitude, and said—out loud--“Jesus:  I’m an asshole.  Do you think I can still go to heaven?’

I’m not sure where I was heading with that.  

But it definitely beats crying into the couch begging a hallucination for mercy.


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Get Well Soon!


Hope you feel better soon!

The religion I was raised on says chicken soup cures everything!

Wishing you well...Eva

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Thank you, Eva. I'm nearly

Thank you, Eva.

I'm nearly out of the woods, having not yelled at my fellow drivers even once today.

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I so feel for you and the

I so feel for you and the throwing up.  I had the Norovirus over Christmas and found out you can actually vomit through your nose.  I used to have a cast iron stomach and sail through, totally unscathed, when others had food poisoning.  Then I underwent medical treatment for an overactive thyroid.  The thyroid got cured but my gut/stomach was never the same.  Now I have food intolerances and get food poisoning quite frequently.  Considering I am a vegetarian, that  takes some doing.  Apparently, I react to the slightest hint of chemical pesticide.  So now I keep a bottle of homoeopathic remedy for that kind of stuff (sorry, no more doctors) handy at all times.  I even take it with me when I travel.

Get well soon.

As for religion, one of these days I'm going to get a few things off my chest in a blog post.

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I so feel your pain on the

I so feel your pain on the weak stomach front. For several years, I got food poisoning about once a year, and the recency of each incident made me more than aware of the initial symptoms. I can still recall one time, lying in bed, knowing it was coming and feeling at first desperate, then doomed, then resigned. Like waiting for the executioner. It's just so awful, isn't it?

In addition to a post on religion, I would love to get your take on why you feel as you do about doctors. I find myself in the same boat, and--seeing how you previously seem to have used traditional medicine--wonder about whether your reasons for it are similar to mine.

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Here's a little something I

Here's a little something I wrote about my views on doctors.

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Just clicked the link and

Just clicked the link and laughed when I saw the title.  Sounds just about perfect already!

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Warning: Possibly blasphemous

Pass this by if you you quickly judge things to be blasphemous.

Technically, Lazarus--brother of Mary and Bethany--is the closest thing to a zombie in the NT, because after Jesus raised him from the dead, he never said one blessed word.  At a dinner afterwards, it's mentioned that Lazarus is sitting there, but he's treated like the drugged-up relative who just sits there in the corner, the one the family always invites, but politely ignores, and hopes you do, too.

The moment of his "rebirth" is the genesis of a popular offshoot of zombie fiction.  I included him, and then edited him out of, two stories of my own.

Now, the Jesus thing you're considering is that after He was resurrected, He appeared as the Trinity (literally, as the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost), and therefore, I guess, as a spirit-like being.  In this form, He appeared to certain followers and disciples, though not all of them.  His most important appearance was to (Saul) Paul, a tax collector, who may have actually been having an epileptic seizure at the time.  Without him, and his widespread, if not eclectic, teachings, we wouldn't have Jesus as we know Him.

So Jesus wasn't a zombie, but in a way, we are, which is what I told a CCD teacher when she was teaching us about transubstantiation.  I mentioned, in a failed attempt to get thrown out of CCD, that the eating of the Body of Christ, and the drinking of Christ's blood (and therefore the practice of the entire religion itself), was nothing more than "ritualized cannibalism."

She was unimpressed with this, and I had my Confirmation.  Now that's hypocrisy.

I look forward to your blog entry about religion.  I'm writing a nonfiction guide of an educated layperson's travels through the Bible, too.  I try not to be offensive in it, but some things are what they are, and the CCD nun never did say I was actually wrong.