I spent Monday, which was a holiday for me (Happy Birthday Buddha!) in bed. When I wasn't in bed, I was in the bathroom. On the toilet. Swearing and writhing. I started to not feel very well on Sunday and by Monday afternoon it was apparent I had picked up some kind of stomach bug. It wasn't pleasant.
When I wasn't gripping my mid-section and moaning, I spent a lot of time sleeping and I wondered if I was going to be able to make it to work the next day.
When I woke up on Tuesday, there was about five minutes where I thought I might actually be alright, but then suddenly it was like a fist grabbed ahold of my stomach and squeezed and twisted. Youch! I ran to sit atop my porcelain throne. I few minutes later I stood, feeling weak and shaky and turned to look into the bowl.
"Jesus Christ!" I thought, "I am soooooo sick. Look at that. It's purple."
This wasn't such a surprise, as all I'd consumed since Sunday afternoon was water and about a litre and a half of grape juice.
"But, that's messed up. It looks crystallized,....almost fuzzy!" I started to think about maybe going to the hospital. "I mean,...look at the edge there - it's black! Is that dried up blood? It's so fuzzy! What the hell is that? Oh, man. I think I might be dying!"
Was it my liver?
How'd my liver get out? There was nothing "solid" about what I'd just created in the toilet. How had my liver come out all liquid and reformed itself into this fuzzy mess?
"Ohmygod, I'm so siiiiiccckkkk,...it looks like a soooooccck," my brain shrieked.
"Wait a minute. That IS a sock! WHAT THE......???"
I was suddenly relieved that it wasn't my fuzzy purple liver, and it wasn't that I had eaten one of my socks while I was sleeping. When I pulled on my pyjama bottoms a few minutes earlier, a sock must have been balled up inside them and had fallen in the bowl when I'd yanked them down.
My stomach still hurts, but at least my liver seems to still be in place.
Channeling Martin Luther
10 hours ago