Campy Lobster

That’s what it looked like to me at a quick glance.  Has Sebastian gone drag and done a sequel?  Is it a fun campfire recipe passed down from generation to generation of NE campers in areas of Maine so remote The Food Network has yet to find and exploit them?

The scientists classify it as campylobacter jejuni, which sounds like a potentially badass Star Wars character, but is the most common cause of food poisoning in the US, a bit of knowledge now in my repertoire due to a cheese plate.

Like little lima beans from hell.

Like little lima beans from hell.

Don’t get me wrong, it was a delicious cheese plate.  My fella and I enjoyed the cheese plate at one of our favorite places and for any of you who know me personally, you know I love some stinky, unpasteurized cheese.  Perhaps it’s just a different experience now. 

Bright side:  Official training for the San Francisco Marathon starts this week and having a system-cleaning detox the week prior was good.  It’s doubtful I would have fully gone without unhealthy substances like caffeine and refined sugar for over a week prior to beginning training. 

But holy, there were a couple of days in the thick of it where I decided I would never eat again.  I’ve never been one to get any cramps with my period, so experiencing abdominal cramps that had me waiting for the alien to punch through my stomach was, different.  At that point, I just thought it was the regular old flu and I was cursing the batch of flu shot I received for failing to protect me from this poop demon. 

Then Man Friend went to the doctor and the lab made me believe in flu shots again.  He texted me the full name, campylobacter jejuni, and said I should consider going into the doctor because this is something that responds to antibiotics.  He was on day four of still feeling totally crappy, while my day four had turned into a light at the end of the Shawshank tunnel scenario.  I’d gone full-on BRAT, minus the applesauce since I didn’t have any in the house, and pushed all the fluids I could.  I hadn’t thrown up on day four and the poop demon seemed to be retreating from my system back to the depths of whatever nasty hell from which he came. 

My phone call to the clinic proved I was starting to feel like myself again, “Yeah, it looks like campy lobster, but since my assh*ole is no longer a tap, do I need to come in or is this something that just runs its course with some people?”

Thankfully, that nurse had a sense of humor.

Call it girl power, call it the combo of tough of Dutch and German stock, or call it my aim to generally take good care of myself, including my guts with fiber and probiotics, but I survived the poopocolypse without medical intervention. 

I was going to say that I wouldn’t wish food poisoning on anyone, but I will say that for a detox, it’s not a bad start.  Any detox might involve sweating, headaches, puking, and a poop demon, right?  It’s just better when said detox is started by choice. 

Maybe the campy lobster knew what I needed? 

Joey was an amazing nurse, staying close and comforting me.  I will admit to being jealous of her fully-formed poops when I took her out for potty breaks. 

I also think this helped me hit a new level with Man Friend in our relationship.  There’s something nice about having someone in mutual distress checking in with you.  The campy lobster bond. 

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