Try to never eat ruined food, this is some very valuable advice
Publicado em , por Pedro Couto e Santos
If I was a superstitious person I’d say that 13 was my no-luck number.
I woke up quite early to face one of those gruelling total-exhaustion days I’m starting to grow accustomed to, working for the company. Me and Tritão had four meetings on agenda.
After a long weekend with lots of action I was tired, it was a challenge to get up, but nothing particularly different happened. Routine. When we arrived at the town where the first meeting was going to be I started feeling kind of ill. My abdominal area was starting to ache… if you get my drift.
I must make a note for a small explanation at this point: This is not uncommon for me. Lots of times it has happened, and I suppose it will continue to happen. Unless I wake up one and a half hours before I actually have to leave the house I can’t get my intestine to work, I can’t go to the john and let the bombs away. That usually means major cramps and an almost irreversible need to take a dump which always come along when I’m at work, in a meeting or teaching class.
I thought this was it… although it was kinda weird, since I had already been to the toilet that morning. Since I’ve dealt with this situation before and, however painfully, survived it, I thought we should just go ahead.
We went to meet the client and the cramps got worse, much worse, and I felt I was loosing control. At the risk of loosing a client in the process I asked for a bathroom. And I did it. I confess… I unloaded my baggage in the client’s bathroom, 5 meters away from the office where Tritão was still talking to the man. Also, the whole setup was a studio in a basement, so I feared some echo would reveal my illegal activities.
Anyway, thinking I was free I gave thanks that there was toilet paper and washed my hands… But I was not OK… Eventually I had to leave the meeting and wait outside, since I was sweating and in terrible pain.
Then I felt better, it seemed to go away and I thought I was back to normal and all that pain I had after going to the client’s bathroom was just due to the fact that I had taken it for so long.
WRONG!
I went to lunch, and by the end of it I was in such bad shape I had to leave the restaurant… I walked up and down the street, breathing deep and almost shitting my pants a couple of times. This was it: I was seriously ill. I went to meet Dee, who was arriving in town at that time for a later job interview she had.
With her she had some Imodium, which I’d ask her for. I took the two pills, but it was clear that it wasn’t going to “cut it”, no pun intended. I left, leaving Tritão to handle some of the afternoon meetings and cancel others.
The trip home was agonizing and I almost didn’t make it. I felt myself change colour as cold sweat went down my neck. My bowel was twisting and turning so hard that I felt like I had an Alien growing inside, ready to jump out at any second.
I went to the toilet a grand total of six times, took some more Imodium and was damned glad I was home. I also had some fever by the end of the day, but it went away.
What happened? Simple: Saturday, after lunch, the remaining food (remember? the steak with cheese, ham and cream?), didn’t fit in the fridge, so it stayed in the oven. I gets VERY hot in my kitchen, since it’s under direct sunlight the whole day. For 3 hours at night I cooked away on the stove, making the inside of the oven even hotter… The cream went bad… when we finally put the meat away in the fridge it had been outside for over 24 hours. And on Sunday at lunch and dinner we ate it.
How’s that for a really bad day?
