Last month I had a scary episode.  I was driving and out of nowhere I felt like I was about to lose consciousness.  I was luckily in a parking lot.  First, I debated if I should just put the car in park out of fear that I would pass out and glide into something.  Then, I spotted an open space, sideswiped a pedestrian that then gave me the bird, and quickly parked.  My mind was racing, “Something is wrong, people don’t just pass out.”  I called my husband unlocked my doors, so he could get to me, and searched for something to eat.  I shoved a lollipop in my mouth… nothing.  I was hanging on by a thread, when I saw my daughter’s morning sippy cup of milk.  I sucked out the milk as fast as I could and after a rush of boiling heat radiated through my body, the feeling slowly eased.  After a meal during which I was barely lucid, I told husband I was okay to drive myself to the doctor, which by the way took very little convincing.  Thanks Mark. 

Now let me tell you a bit about my Doctor.  He is a Jewish Jamaican with a strong accent and the stereotypical laid back attitude you would expect of people who use the word irie, though he does not.  I go to him because I am too big of a hypochondriac to go to someone high strung.  When I arrived I found him outside taking a smoke break, he rolls his own, so there’s no telling what it was.

“Ello luv,  I see you got yer pretty self all worked up.  I don’t mean to trow the book at ya, but yer blood pressure is very low… too too low.  Yer passin’ out cause yer not getting enough oxygen to yer brain daarlin’. 

“That actually explains some other issues.”

“Well, ya got ta take care of dis yerself, cause yer not gonna like the medcine I’d ‘ave to put ya on.  Now go to the store and buy everyting wid salt.  Get some matzoh ball soup and put extra salt init, put salt on yer salt.  Everyting you been taught, ferget it.  Rememba ya need tons of fluids, ‘cause ya ‘ave to retain ‘em.”

“What about water?”

“Water? No. That’s terrible fer ya, that just washes the sodium away.  I prefer you ‘ave a coke, that ‘as yer, salt yer caffeine, and yer sugar.  It’s the perfect drink fer yer ‘ealth.”

“Yes, I believe that’s their campaign slogan.  Drink Coke, It’s Perfect For Your Health.”

“OK then, I love ya daarlin.  ‘Ave a space cake fer the road.”

Did I mention he takes his appointments in a small shack?  I’m totally kidding, it’s more of a trailer.

So, if I want to stay awake, I must retain water and eat and drink crap, and if I want to stay thin, I must pass out. Hmmm, well I certainly wouldn’t be the first person who passed out trying to stay thin.  It is against everyting, sorry everthing, in me to purposely retain fluids.  But apparently, this medicine is something I want to avoid so here goes.

WEEK 1-  Filled pantry with pretzels, pistachios, popcorn, pickles, peppercorn jack, and Pepsi.  I know, you’re thinking they all have… salt in them, and that’s why I got them.

WEEK 2-  Ate and drank all of the above.  Wide awake.  Feelin’ gooood. 

WEEK 3- Feeling sluggish. Fingers pruning… Must have sweet, in need of a cupcake.  I secretly busted a piñata at Ryan’s friend’s 4th birthday, and ravaged the remains.  I blamed it on a little kid that teases Ryan, who just happened to be the birthday boy.  Ahhh, sweet sweet revenge. 

WEEK 4- Cannot look at another saltine.  Putting MnMs in my soup instead of oyster crackers.  Can no longer wear rings.  Thighs are becoming too friendly with each other.  Mission accomplished.  Do I cry or cheer?

WEEK 5-  Too bloated to cook.  Can’t get fingers around pan handles.  Oven mitts don’t fit.  Had Mark install salt licks around the house for convenience.  Lick them each time I waddle by.  Will write more tomorrow, sausage fingers too swollen for keys.

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Always a joy to read your stuff, even if you are suffering… well minimally at least.