Dear Reader,
At the moment, I'm going nuts, crazy, out-of-my-mind insane, being too hard on myself--all the things I'm so good at doing. I could teach a class on it. Feeling anxious, can hardly catch my breath and my chest is tight. But before you whip an email off suggesting I'm having a heart attack, or you decide to dial 911--"I'm not sure of her address, but she's a writer who lives in Florida and she's having chest pains, send an ambulance!"--I assure you, it's probably nothing because the last time this happened to me, I immediately went to the doctor, they did an x-ray and the pain in my chest turned out to be gas.
Yeah, I didn't believe them either, so the doctor held up the x-ray and pointed to the spot. (For those of you who are curious, gas looks cloudy on an x-ray.) And there were so many clouds it looked like a doozy of a thunderstorm was ready to let loose. 'Where's my umbrella?' Talk about embarrassing.
But it wasn't my first time.
Years ago, when I was publishing a business magazine, whenever a new restaurant was getting ready to open in the city, the owners would always have a first-night, private party. They wanted to "get the word out" in the community and the new kitchen staff needed a trial-run, so the media was always invited and I'd get an invitation.
Free food has never been a very big deal to me, but this particular invitation was for a restaurant specializing in seafood. I love fresh shrimp, and sure enough, there were two heaping platters, with sides of horseradish cocktail sauce on the buffet table--I couldn't resist. And I'm embarrassed to admit that I ate way-more than my "socially-acceptable" share of the jumbo delights, washing them all down with a couple glasses of white wine. Then I jotted down a five-star rating on their "How did we do?" card, went home, put on my pjs and went right to sleep. Woke up forty minutes later and felt like I was dying. Bent over, crawling around the bathroom floor; my chest, stomach, intestines, everything below my neck down to my knees was cramping. "Take me to the Emergency Room!"
Just like in the movies, two nurses were waiting outside of the Emergency Room door for my husband and me. And when they immediately wheeled me straight back into an exam room, no waiting, no paperwork, nobody asking, "What's your mother's maiden name?"--it was confirmation--I must be dying. I'd never seen so many doctors in one room. Am I allowed to die if no one has called my HMO for pre-authorization?
"Suzanne, we're going to have to do emergency surgery, you must have blockage somewhere. We're going to do an x-ray." A surgeon was on his way, nurses were starting to prep me for the operating room and that's when a doctor holding my x-ray appeared.
"I have good news and bad news," the doctor said, "the good news is you don't need surgery. The bad news is you have really, really bad gas. Even we're a little amazed. We'll give you something for it, but it's going to take hours for everything to 'clear-out.' Just how many of those jumbo shrimp did you eat?"
Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.
Suzanne Beecher
[email protected]
AUTHORBUZZ: Click here to discover new books, "meet" the authors and enter to win.
* This month's Penguin Classics book is The Awakening, by Kate Chopin. I have a copy of the book to share with a lucky reader, so start reading and enter for your chance to win.
Comments