I am sure there are people who go their entire lives without physical agony but, alas, I am not one of them. Kidney stones have seen to that.

And, as it turns out, food poisoning gets me there too.

I should preface this by saying that I've had a cast-iron stomache for as long as I've been alive. I don't get food poisoning. I've been around the world a dozen times and have eaten all kinds of questionable things without any ill-effects. Everything from the horrors of Nattō (fermented soybeans from Japan) to suspect cheeses of every kind... didn't affect me in the least. Any time I do get affected by something I'm not accustomed to eating, it's mild. Maybe an upset stomach for an hour or two... or a mild case of diarrhea.

But recently? Disaster.

A couple months ago I had a rice dish that made me so sick I thought that I would never be able to eat again. I was vomiting for days. A sip of water was enough to send me into painful convulsions.

And last night (or rather, tonight since I am writing this on Friday about last night)... I had food poisoning so bad that I was praying for death.

It all started when I grabbed a slice of leftover pizza as I was headed out the door. I felt a knot in my stomache within a half hour. That should have been a sign to go force myself to puke it up. But I endured. By the time I got home from work I was sweating and starting to have cramping.

Two hours after that I was rolling around in bed screaming my head off.

Around 8:00pm I swallowed an old Oxycodone I had found in my travel bag. I swallowed it dry because I had already been puking all night. Somehow I managed to keep it down and fell asleep. Or passed out. Or something.

When I woke up at 10:15pm I was still in pain, but knew the minute my pill wore off that I'd be in agony again. So I took the last decade-old Oxycodone I had and went back to sleep.

And managed to sleep through the night, not waking up until 5:30am.

My pain was still there, but dulled enough that I could go to work. Which I really, really didn't want to do... but really, really needed to do.

Now the agony is but a memory. Though a foggy one. I remember wanting to die. I know I was in pain. I'm just so far detatched from it as to wonder if maybe it was a dream. But then I found the empty bottle from my pills which expired 9 years ago and know it was all too real.