One Bad Apple and I May Die

one bad apple

I think I ate a bug  . . and I might die.

I was home alone, calmly eating an apple.  I am allowed to do things like that alone … at home .. . unattended …. on my own.   And I bit into the apple and took a big bite.  Then I chewed and chewed and swallowed and then the phone rang or something – I can’t remember all the exact details because I am suffering with PTSD from the whole thing and my therapist said that I have probably blocked some of it to prevent myself from being triggered and losing it all over innocent people’s heads.

When I got back to my work and the half eaten apple lying on the desk, I almost died.  I had bitten through to the core and what was clearly a grotesque, rotten, slimy mess, black and orange and grossly grotesque, that had been created by some kind of bug/worm … thing.  (I had to type and retype “thing” 473 times just now because my hands are shaking so bad from the memory)

I started to scream and dance up and down , running around in circles … on my chair.  Then I remembered a show I saw where someone got bit by a snake and they said you should lie as still as possible so you slow down the spread of the poison in your blood.

So I lay down on the floor.  I closed my eyes.  I was still screaming because that show never said anything about screaming and it is what I do.  I kept trying to image the bug/worm thingy being surrounded by my powerful thoughts – each one with a big pitchfork, forcing the bug to not move.  But, then I thought, what if it lives there and has babies?  And what if I end up with a whole colony of bug worms living in me?  What if I have to run away and join a circus and be the “bug lady?”

So then I knew what I had to do.  I had to throw up and NOW.  I ran to the bathroom and stuck my finger down my throat.  Again and again, and then I cursed myself for not being more friendly with those girls in high school or at least paying more attention to them in the bathroom.  How many freaking fingers does it take?  Which fingers?  Does it matter?   It took f-o-r-e-v-e-r!!

The bug/worm probably had 153 babies in the time it took to throw up.

But then, I looked in the toilet and thought about the 4 big bites I took and did I throw up all of it?  How much does 4 big bites (plus one bug/worm thing ) look like when it is all chewed up and partially digested?  How would I know when I had thrown it all up?  Does the last bite come up first or does the first bite come up first?  What if I just threw up all the apple and not the bug/worm thingy?  I couldn’t see a bug/worm thingy anywhere but then, what if I chewed it all up and now I had bug juice everywhere inside me?  What hope did I have of vomiting up every last drop of bug juice?  I was going to die.

I got up and took the apple to the kitchen.  I had to cut it open and see if the bug was in there.  I didn’t want to.  I had to.  I didn’t want to.  I had to.

Somewhere in the midst of all of that, the apple got cut in half and I vomited some more – sans the fingers.  Make a note of this, When you think you have eaten a bug/worm thing because there is rot in your apple, DO NOT cut it open, unless of course, you cannot make yourself throw up with the fingers, then it may be the smartest thing to do.

So when hubby got home I was crying so hard he couldn’t understand me trying to tell him that I ate a bug/worm thingy.  I don’t think he fully understood the trauma of not being able to throw up when you wanted to, or that there was no hope of removing every drop of bug juice. I hate bugs.  I hate worms.  I hate thingys.  I don’t like to ever touch those things and now one was probably inside me … touching everything!! He had problems understanding me partly because I was sobbing hysterically and partly because he was laughing hysterically.

That is not a caring thing to do.

And no, pictures and articles on the internet telling me that stomach acid is stronger than battery acid and nothing would live in there did not help because, “hello tape worms???”

Life has gone on. I am not dead, yet. But life will never be the same. I have lost my innocence, my belief in myself. I am afraid to eat alone. I want to hire one of those people who taste your food before you do to make sure it is ok. I have been on the phone all week trying to convince one of the kids to move back home. They have had a good life. It is time to give back.

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