Thursday, September 11, 2008

Pizza Destiny

Hi. I’m a piece of pizza.

A piece of frozen pizza that Happy Villain cooked with great love and tenderness, adding her favorite spices and some Romano and Parmesan cheese to, but I don’t mind the enhancements. I consider them accessories. It’s not insulting. She cooked me up perfectly in the oven and I was primed and ready for her to ingest me and put me to use. You see, I come in this form so that the human body can break me down and use my parts to fuel her body. It means I’m destined for great things.

All was going well at first. She chewed me just the right amount of times, washed me down with a huge tumbler of cold water, and stomach acids were starting to release my true power in her belly. I was excited. This was my moment to shine. I was going to be sent to her cells to power her great machinery, and hopefully she’d do something really special with the energy and nutrients I provide her. Only, something else far more powerful than me, and even more powerful than Happy Villain herself, had other plans.

A quinine derivative medication followed me into the belly, as well as an antibiotic that doubles as an anti-fungal. Right away I knew something was dreadfully wrong with this human. Digestion all but came to a halt. There were belly quakes and spasms of muscles beyond where I could see, and Happy Villain seemed to be dizzy and fighting off the urge to vomit. She did well, the trooper. I certainly didn’t want to be expelled that way. Ugh.

A few hours went by and somehow most of me made it past the stomach, although some of me was still lingering behind in the unhappy soup of stomach discontent. Happy Villain fell asleep and thought digestion would be aided much by the prostrate positioning and slower metabolism. She did toss and turn a lot, but that’s because she still has a vicious sinus infection and double ear infections.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I made it to her intestines.

OHMYGOD, what a mess! That damn antibiotic she’s been taking is causing them to bleed, and things are looking mighty irritated in there. That anti-malarial medication is seizing up her guts, turning everything in the bowels to mush, and forcing it all out before it can truly be absorbed. This was not looking good for me.

At 4 am, it was like all hell broke loose. There were cramps coming from every direction, and her body heated up to a frighteningly high feverish state. I was cooking all over again, and this time it wasn’t good. She was sweating profusely and rocking back and forth from the pain in her abdomen, not sure whether things were going to come out the top or bottom of her, but I heard her begging for whatever was inside her to please come out. I felt bad. It’s not me, I shouted! I would never do this to you! I’m meant for bigger things! I don’t think she heard me.

Twenty minutes of her sweating and crying in her bathroom finally led to a mass exodus of everything she’s eaten since she was about two months old. She lost it from both ends, and part of me landed in the tub, while part of me went into the toilet. At the same time! That was wild! And my parts sat there for an untold amount of time while she sat trembling, too exhausted to even move, eyes closed, unable to even look at me. She was sad. She had big plans for me, too. We were going to work together, and here we were, forcibly separated, and she was too weak to even stand up. She needed me and now I’m destined for a place in the sewer, where microbes and vile things will dine upon my parts. This is not my destiny, yet here I am.

She finally was able to gather her strength to get up, clean herself off, and wash my remnants away. I assume she stumbled back to bed and got up in the morning to try some other food, for she surely needed some energy, but I can tell you it did not go well either. I was joined by her breakfast not too many hours later, and an equally distraught plate of eggs and English muffin were washed away, their destiny robbed from them too, all because of that stupid quinine-type medication that refuses to allow Happy Villain to digest food.

How exactly is this supposed to cure malaria if it runs the risk of starving the person to death?

I’m a piece of pizza. I’m full of nutrients from grains to calcium to essential fats and antioxidants. I’m supposed to give a human power. It’s a great purpose, I have. And thanks to some stupid medication, I dwell in the bowels of the septic system, munched on by unspeakable creatures, my glorious fate stolen from me unjustly.

Drugs suck.

5 comments:

Leelu said...

Oh, sweetie. *hug*

BeckEye said...

Well, you haven't lost your flair for words, if that's any comfort!

Lummox said...

Sooo... The pizza can't actually type can it? Cause if it can, I can honestly say, with no restraint or hesitation, the the drugs aren't the actual issue here and you may want to call someone to take a look at this miraculous (though rumor-spreading) Italian delight.
Just sayin'.

Rachel said...

Drugs... blech! I wrote a poem about doctors and drugs after my experience with them.
Hope it makes you smile at least :)

Who needs those doctors, those psychos and those quacks
How about a chiropractor for your aching back
A neurologist for that messed up head
Without them, you might as well be dead
Foot ache, headache, belly ache and flu
Tell them what you have and they'll see what they can do
Prescribe this drug or that drug, it might work for you
It worked for Mr. Smith; it should for you too
Prozac, Wellbutrin, Celexa and more
Don't take too many, you'll end up on the floor
Sleeping pills and birth control
I think you're on a roll
Advil and pain relief
That doctor is a thief

Gardenbuzzy said...

Hugs from me, too, HV. Hope you get past this bad stuff soon.