I wake with an extremely painful stomach cramp in the middle of the night. I lay quiet and still, hoping the feeling will pass. It doesn’t. I turn to my left side, and pull my knees up to my chest. The pain continues and I get up and head for the bathroom.
Still more pain as I start to feel lightheaded and dizzy. I remember this feeling; I had it when I was sick as a kid, right before I passed out. I get down to the floor and curl into fetal position. I put my head lower then my heart, my foggy mind remembers hearing that one time. Still the pain and pressure continues.
I think to myself, “Am I gonna pass out from the pain?” I return to the sitting position, the feeling doesn’t pass. I begin to crawl out of the bathroom toward the kitchen. I pause at the refrigerator and reach for the handle. I grab for a container and pop a couple slices of cucumber in my mouth. “That’s no better than juice,” my mind races. There is a bottle of Loganberry in the door, I reach for it unscrewing the top and gulping down the sweet sugary liquid. “Ahh!”
I continue crawling for the pantry, when I open the door I see a box of graham crackers in reach. I pull them down and rip open the package. I begin stuffing them in my mouth. I begin to feel better with each cracker I cram down my throat. Crumbs fall onto my bare legs and the linoleum floor. The edges of my mouth begin to feel raw as their rough texture slides against my lips. I take a couple more sips of Loganberry as a large black ant scurries across the floor. “He will love these crumbs,” I think as my mind begins to return to normal. My heart rate slows. I think about eating graham crackers when I was little coated with butter. I wish I could reach the butter and a knife know. I glance to the box each serving of two is 160 calories; more than each bottle of juice. “How many have I eaten,” I think, “the package still has four left, maybe half?”
I finish the package and get to my feet. I stumble back to bed and lay down.
“Where were you?” comes a sleepy voice.
“I almost died. The juice almost killed me,” I reply weakly.
“Huhuh,” is her reply as she rolls over.
“I am done being true to the juice,” I swear to myself as I roll over too.