Just from the looks of it, the resturaunt was questionable at best, but my friends and I were burnt out on all of our regular sources of chinese food so we gave it a try. Tho I knew I would be horrified to look in the kitchen of the place, I found the food to be reasonably tasty and wasn't disappointed that I went there. Unfortunately, shortly after I got home, I started to get that "weird" feeling in my stomach, signaling that something may be on the move in the wrong direction. After about an hour of queeziness, I started to get stomach pains, which soon developed into mild cramps, which graduated into full blown, on my hands and knees, doubled over stomach cramps. I took a Zantac (heartburn/sour stomach med) knowing it wouldn't help but hopeful nonetheless, even though the queeziness had long since left, leaving only the cramps. Finally, around 11pm, I decided that this chinese resturaunt had given me some nasty form of food poisoning or this gut I've been carrying around since shortly after high school actually housed a baby and it was about to be born...either way it was time to seek medical attention.
On to the emergency room, since I don't have a regular doctor and even if I did, he'd surely not be at the office. I end up in an exam room which measures about 11ft x 7ft and after asking several questions, the doc sends the nurse back in to take a blood sample. She assures me she won't take a lot and pulls it out of the back of my hand with a syringe after inserting some sort of device that I can only equate to the fueling boom that comes off the back of a mid-air refuelling tanker. About 1/4 way through the second syringe, she finds that my body ain't gonna give up any more and decided she's got enough anyway. Then she sticks in the line for the saline or whatever was in the bag hanging above me. About the time she pulled the second needle out, I got a huge chill and felt colder than I ever have in my life. I'm guessing I was quite pale too, as she asked me if there was something wrong, and if I was feeling queezy. I said not really, but maybe, so she brought over the big garbage can for me to use if I needed. (I was lying down on a gurney, attached to the saline or whatever bag so a bathroom was probably out of the question).
Seconds after she had that garbage can next to the gurney, I felt the eruption start...the nurse, who surely must have had much experience with this, was immediately cognative of what was about to happen and I swear it took her no less than a second to jump back to the far edge of the exam room. Her quick thinking and action didn't save her. I vomited with a force I didn't realize could come out of my body and sprayed her, the wall, the floor, the gurney, the sink...there were few survivors, as I waited just a few seconds longer than I should have to roll myself over to face the garbage can. Everything was dripping, including her, and I was amazed that she actually asked me if I was OK before dashing off to de-puke herself. The next half hour was spent wondering how I managed such a superhuman feat, if that poor nurse had a good change of cloths and a shower handy, and how that orderly could clean up all that puke without getting ill himself (and so fast!). Plus, it was kind of awkward sitting there while someone you don't know has to clean up your vomit. I did feel quite a bit better tho', so I decided little else mattered. The nurse visited me three more times that evening(early morning), one of which she made me drink some thick, nasty blue toejam and every time she made sure to ask "you aren't gonna puke on me again, are you?". I also saw the doctor one more time...he asked a couple of questions, checked on this and that, then shoved his finger in my bellybutton under the guise of "checking for blood in your stool". I knew that the nurse had surely put him up to it as a way of getting me back and although I can't say I blame her for the spite, I wish she could have found another way to express it.
In the end, I had vomited on a nurse, had a finger shoved up my ass, and was given no clear answer as to what might have caused my pain except "it may be an intestinal virus thingie that's been going around". I went home with a headache and abdominal muscles sore from being used so much (god knows they hadn't seen a situp in a long time), and crashed for a good 10 hour nap.
The moral of the story? Don't eat at questionable Chinese resturaunts, and always remember that mere seconds can mean the difference between a huge sickening mess of vomit and a huge sickening mess of vomit stored neatly in a recepticle.
SOB
