Entomologists and Fried Shrimp

2008 – Palm Springs

I’m asking my wife to buy a gun.  She refuses.  She won't leave me even though I’ve repeatedly asked her to go away.  I’m not trying to be mean, I just want to die as quickly and peacefully as possible.  Every time I start to see the white light and hear dead relatives beckoning me home, she asks, “Brad… are you OK?”  Coming back from the brink, I shake my head and say, “Urrggghhh.” 

I’m hanging on the porch rail outside of the Mikado Japanese Steakhouse.  I’m trying to look inconspicuous as the other diners pass by.  I’m showing an intense interest in the wood rail.  I look like an Entomologist trying to discover a new species of termite.  I’m cold and sweaty and my stomach is trying to crawl out of my abdomen.  I’d go to an emergency room, but that would require me to move my body.  I’d rather die. 

Just an hour before, I was living it up.  The Teppanyaki chef was flinging fried shrimp across the room and I was catching it in my mouth.  I’d move farther and farther away and still catch it.  I don’t mess around when food is flung in my direction.  It was a good meal.  By the end of it, I knew it would be my last moments alive.

I've been allergic to weird stuff in my life: things like latex paint, broccoli, almonds, and… mushrooms.  My death was blamed on the three hundred pounds of mushrooms I ate that night.

I knew I was allergic to mushrooms, but these were tiny mushrooms, very tiny mushrooms.  Eating 1000 of these mushrooms would be equal to one regular store-bought mushroom.  I only ate 800.  Now I realize that it was a plot by the chef to kill me.  I missed one of the flung fried shrimp and it ended up on the floor.  I wasted food.  He was getting his revenge.

A few months ago I ate some soup.  After several bites (or swallows…) I realized it had mushrooms in it.  I stopped eating and called the local funeral home.  After I’d planned my funeral, I realized that I was still alive.  No pain, no hanging on the rails, no begging my wife to leave me alone.  A month or so ago, I ate some almonds.  I’d already performed a tracheotomy on myself so I could breathe when my throat swelled shut.  A while later I called for my wife, “Hey Honey!  Come in here and sew up this hole in my throat.  It turns out I don’t need it!”

I've been eating mushrooms and almonds since without any problems.  I’m going to drink some latex paint later just to check.  I still haven’t eaten broccoli.  I think I’ll keep claiming that allergy.  Why would I want to eat broccoli anyway? 

The allergies disappeared after my surgery.  I asked my surgeon if that was common.  He looked at me like I was violating the 1-year-with-no-alcohol rule.  I guess it isn’t common.  Common or not, I think it is pretty cool.

The weight loss is turning out to be a small part of the benefit of this surgery.  My Diabetes is gone, my sleep apnea is gone, my allergies are gone, and my hair is gone (not the result of surgery, but I thought I’d mention it).  I feel younger than I did 10 years ago.  I can ride a bike again without my dangling gut causing back spasms, although I’ll probably get hit by a car on my first bike ride outside my neighborhood.  

It’s good.  It’s all good.