Mrs. HM has been having a few days of not-the-best luck. Too many incidents to cram in all at once. But we'll start with the most obvious:
On Tuesday, I ate part of my fork. I can't give you a review of its taste, because I didn't taste it. Didn't even know I ate it until I saw the end after I licked it clean of the baked potato/broccoli/cheese/sweet banana peppers that I had as my side dish.
I'm guessing that everything came out okay. That I am not harboring a fork tip that will eventually work its way out of my digestive tract, through my thick skin, and fall to the dark green ceramic tile of the master bathroom floor as I'm getting ready to shower.
Side note... in college, I ran five miles a day. I missed a curb one fall morning, only a block into my run, and slid my knees across some gravelly concrete. I was able to continue my run with minimal blood loss, and wash and treat and bandaid the worst knee when I returned to the dorm. By springtime, my wound was well-healed, with a little bumpy scar. It itched every now and then.
Imagine my surprise when I scratched and a PIECE OF GRAVEL CAME OUT! That was kind of weird. But painless. And then the itching stopped.
The more you know... the less you WISH you knew!
3 comments:
Your body is either such a wonderful host that even a piece of gravel enjoys living there for a while... or that piece of gravel worked really, really hard over a matter of months to escape...
I had an experience at Ronald McDonald House recently that made me hate plastic forks. They not sturdy enough to use with many foods... They should be banned from this planet.
*snap*! Many years ago I walked into a glass door and cut my knee. This was back inthe days when glass doors didn't have dots across the middle or any other signage indicating a door was there, it was lit from within and darkish outside the building. anyway, I went to the police station and reported that I'd broken the door with my knee. Next day, mum took me to a doctor who pronounced the wound too ragged to stitch and suggested I just keep it clean. Eventually it healed, but like yours, itched. Several years later when I scratched at it, a tiny sliver of glass came out.
I think if you didn't feel anything crunchy while you ate, perhaps that fork tip was already broken and you just didn't notice.
Sioux,
What are you, Madam, some kind of ANTI-FORKITE??? The smooth plastic fork is a miracle invention! The texture is easy on the tongue. It can (and has been) used as a substitute comb for a lovely lady-mullet. AND it can be used as a weapon (briefly) to deter weirdos who can't resist my magnet.
Unless you were forking Ronald McDonald himself, I can't imagine what there might have been too tough for a plastic fork.
I am indeed the hostess with the mostess! That piece of gravel would have worked much harder, had it been embedded in my ample rumpus.
***
River,
Thank you for the VALidation about escaping wound debris! So I'm NOT crazy! About this, anyway.
I'd like to think the fork was already broken, but I love my plastic forks, and I think I would have noticed that it was not perfect when I picked it up. Not sure I would notice the breaking during my feeding frenzy!
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