Surely, on a food related blog that is filled with recipes and delicious-looking pictures, he wouldn’t discuss the unpleasantries that come along with gastrointestinal afflictions would he?
Yes. Yes, he would.
Warning: The following story is not intended for you if you are squeamish or eating lunch.
A little backstory.
Last year’s New Year’s Eve celebration was pretty good. The sis-in-law came down to spend the night and Vess and I were working up a big batch of pozole to enjoy after 2011 came. Shots were poured, words were slurred and soon it was time for the ball to drop. Oddly enough, the two sisters were in a very, very tiny, closed bathroom chattering away while the countdown began. I counted down loudly to zero, yelling down a vacant hallway. I heard a muffled “Happy New Year!” come from behind a closed door and the interrupted chatter resume soon after. The New Year had, I thought, come in not with a bang, but a fizzle. Regardless, later that evening we enjoyed our traditional New Year’s soup and went to bed.
The morning of January 1st, 2011 was a nightmare. My stomach was cramping and felt like it was being pulled in every direction by giant hands as if it was made of Silly-Putty. I never puked, but I came damn close. If this was a hangover, it was one unlike any I have ever had before. Vess was affected too, but not to my degree. I ended up blaming the affliction on old radishes in the pozole since it was the only thing the sis-in-law didn’t eat that we did. It took a day or two for the symptoms to subside and I vowed to never let it happen again.
Flash forward to a year later. I had just gotten over a cold and wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of the festivities.
December 30th, 2011 (2 days to “D”-Day)
Vess and I had a meal of roasted chicken with lemon, rosemary and garlic. We also had some barley and a small salad on the side. Feel fine. We went to sleep watching MST3K.
December 31st, 2011 (1 day to “D”-Day)
7:30 AM: Woke up feeling a little “off.”
9:00 AM: Rode bike down the street to local burger/mexican joint that has become our favorite. Starting sweating and feeling nauseous while in restaurant and while pedaling home. Blamed it on me pedaling on a bike with it being 75°F outside.
9:15 AM: (This was the only difference in meal or drink variation that I can think of.) I Ate the greasiest 2 pound carne asada burrito I have ever had in my life. It was also the best one I had ever had, but definitely had to wash hands with dishwasing liquid afterwards to get all of the grease off. I did pick Vess out a little strip of carne asada beef to taste. It came with a pants-wettingly-hot green chile sauce that she didn’t want to try so I used all of it. Vess had a ‘Frisco burger and fries.
1:00 PM-ish: Vess saw a story on the news about how the cops were going into neighborhoods telling people not to engage in the popular regional practice of firing their guns into the air. Police have done this around holidays every year since Shannon’s law was enacted in 2000.
7:00 PM: My stomach getting noticeably more odd-feeling during the day, I realized it was time to start making finger foods for the big event. Started making sauces and switching out pans cooking in the oven.
8:30 PM: Got the last pans of food away in the oven. Stomach was still weird, but stable. What to do? Why, drink vodka shots, of course!
9:00 PM: Weak buzz going, stomach holding out, food came out fine.
10:00 PM: Talked to the folks on the phone. Happened to be on the phone when the New Year came for them. Had to remind them I was 2 hours behind them.
11:00 PM: Moderate buzz going. Fell asleep on couch watching Twilight Zone. New Year’s is taking too long to get here.
11:45 PM: Woke up and tried to find the countdown on television. All I could find was a two-hour-delayed Dick Clark. Man, they painted him super-orange this year!
January 1st, 2012 (“D”-Day)
12:00 AM: The sound of guns being fired in the air were all around us. We made sure to not go outside. Actually got to kiss Vess at the stroke of midnight this year instead of looking at a closed bathroom door. Made a resolution to smoke less, drink less, exercise more, lose weight, eat smarter and all of the other shallow clichés that people resolve to make themselves less unique and more conforming to societal ideals and pressures.
12:01 AM: Immediately question the “eat smarter” equation of my resolution after piling bacon-wrapped shellfish of indeterminate origin into an already-nauseaous belly full of vodka.
Although I had my sweetie, it sucked not having any family around for New Year’s. We went to bed shortly after eating our fill. The new year had come in with a “fizzle” again… or so I thought.
At around 7:30 AM on the morning of January 1st, 2012, I was roused from sleep by stomach pains. My trying to ignore them was met with futility, forcing me to get up.
I won’t go into the grizzly details but let’s just say it wasn’t pretty. To take you’re mind off it, here’s a video of a dog eating cookies dipped in icing.
The next two-and-a-half days were an exercise in strategic placement on the mattress (lying on my back seemed to lesson the cramps) and drinking and eating whatever was brought to me for dehydration and pain (orange juice with salt added, rice, rice water, potato soup, peppermint tea.) Basically I insured that we wouldn’t be eating anything but tasteless food – meanwhile, Vess had been looking forward to this meal for an entire year. She really was a trooper. The fact that I am just today starting to feel better is thanks to her going into full-on nurse mode. We didn’t get to eat our pozole on New Year’s, but we still have all of the ingredients on hand – so hopefully we’ll eat it tonight.
You can be damn sure I’m going to see if those radishes are ok, though.