Fasting, Or Eating Well By 2/3 World Standards?

An intestinal infection of some kind hit me on Sunday and I really haven't been able to tolerate solid foods since then. I've had the odd bagel, I've had a few sticks of pretzels, I had three chocolate chip cookies today (what a risk!), and on Monday I remember having some soup and crackers.

Nothing digests. I'm like that cartoon car they showed you in elementary school when they were trying to teach you to eat breakfast every morning, because your body needs fuel!

The car is chugging along and driving erratically all over the road by this point. Man, am I draggin'.

I drink as much water and Gatorade as I can get down, as the doctor makes dire threats that if I don't stay hydrated I'll have to go into the hospital, which as we know is THE place of rest and healing. Just like Grand Central Station is a place of rest and healing -- although come to think of it, I'd be a lot more happily engaged and stimulated at GCS than I would be in any typical American hospital.

I start on the drug Flagyl tomorrow (now isn't that a name for a drug?). If this is a little parasitic friend I brought back from Guatemala, the Flagyl will keell it. I imagine the Flagyl like Uma Thurman in "Kill Bill -- " this awesome drug dressed in a yellow track suit that will kick the butt of any icky things floating around in my body trying to get a free ride on my guts.

I have high hopes.

This is the third time this year that I've been taken down with some kind of vile bug -- this after going for years and years without anything of the sort.

So I was thinking to myself, "Geez, I'm kind of fasting."

And then it occurred to me that I'm still -- with my drastically reduced and limited diet -- eating more every day than a whole lot of people on this planet.

Sobering thought, that.