So the mushrooms were definitely not chanterelles.
As evidenced by the time I spent cuddling my toilet this afternoon.
See, what had happened was, last year. At Iron Mountain. Or maybe it was Pilot Mountain to Hanging Rock. Or maybe both. LeBBQ stopped in the middle of an ultra. Picked a bunch of wild mushrooms. Brought them back to the cabin. And threw them into some scrambled eggs. And created art. Edible art. Just really delicious edible art.
So, yesterday. In an effort to stop running for just a damn second. I picked some wild mushrooms. And brought them home. And threw them into some scrambled eggs this morning. And created…ipecac.
In fairness, LeBBQ warned me. The pictures looked like chanterelles. But they could also be the other kind. That would make me want to die. But won’t.
I didn’t just throw a whole mushroom into the eggs. I just used a little bit.
And thank fuck.
Because about an hour after breakfast. I started to feel a tad nauseous.
And I was due at my people’s house for an afternoon of wake surfing.
Which. In and of itself is odd enough.
It confused the hell out of J-Pete when I told him my plan for the weekend.
“You? Wake surfing?”
Because of the whole terrified of water thing.
Like, this is the stuff my nightmares are made of
That is exactly how you get swallowed up into the center of the earth, y’all.
But I do love water sports.
Water skiing. Wake boarding. And now wake surfing. Those are my favorites.
I just wish we could do them without the water.
Anyway. I was supposed to go. And I’d already cancelled on everyone last weekend. Because Bo wasn’t feeling well.
I couldn’t cancel this weekend. Because I wasn’t feeling well.
So I showed up. And announced my ickiness. Because in the time of La Rona, you have to announce symptoms. Just in case.
“Awww, sweetie. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. Is there anything going around right now?”
But they didn’t seem to skittish about my ickiness. After I explained the mushrooms.
So we decided to head out on the boat.
And when you mix boat terror with bad mushrooms. The nausea intensifies.
And you know how your mouth fills up with saliva? When the vomit is trying to come?
Yeah. So, I’d just lean myself over the side of the boat until it passed.
And I was ok. I mean, the nausea was constant. But I didn’t think I was in actual danger of anything coming up.
So after watching Beautiful Beastie master the surfboard. After leading us through the 18 mile mountain run yesterday. And teaching two fitness classes this morning.
I thought maybe I might stand a chance. Since I hadn’t done a damn thing that morning. Except consume the definitely not edible mushroom.
Well, obviously I couldn’t just let that stand.
So, I tried again.
And I managed to stay up that time.
But also. Ok, so I’ve know these people most of my life. Cechak taught me to drive stick when I was 16. I babysat for their kids when they were born. We have history.
And most of that history involves Cechak taking whatever opportunities he can find to bully me.
Which is confusing. Because I’m always so sweet to him.
But it shouldn’t have surprised me when he played this song. During my wake surf run.
So you best believe I wasn’t gonna fall. Absolutely not.
And I didn’t.
I can’t move now. And almost definitely won’t be able to walk tomorrow.
But I sure didn’t fall.
And then the nausea started really kicking in.
And I could feel. It was becoming an emergent situation.
So as soon as we got back to the dock. I told them I had to peace out.
Mostly in case it was La Rona.
But also I didn’t need Cechak to have the Sunshine puking into the lake in front of everyone story in his arsenal.
“Why did you eat a bunch of mushrooms you found in the woods?”
…because of who I am as a person…? I’m not sure what you’re asking me.
So, I let them bring out my birthday cookie cake. And sing happy birthday to me. But quietly. So 2020 didn’t hear.
And I drove the ten minute drive back to my house. In under five. I swear.
And the moment. The second. I pulled into my driveway. I jumped out. And puked in the woods. Beside my house.
Stood there for a minute. Trying to compose myself. As Bo watched from the deck. Clearly still annoyed that I’d left him home alone again.
So I crawled my way up into the house. Gave him a hug.
Which led him to tell me I could probably just go back out again. Because ew.
And then I walked calmly, stoically to the bathroom.
Knelt down in front of the toilet.
And relieved myself of every last bit of mushroom.
And I laid there. Cuddled up next to the toilet. That I had thankfully just cleaned that morning. Just in case it all kicked back in. And spent that time texting everyone.
It didn’t. Kick back in.
I got it all out in those two goes.
I ate dinner. Doritos and everything.
And I’m good.
I mean, good is probably overselling it.
Because I can’t really use my legs now.
And 5 minutes of wake surfing worked my shoulders way more than seems accurate.
But I think all of the non-hallucinogenic and definitely not edible shrooms are out of my system. And it definitely wasn’t La Rona.
And I was finally able to eat my birthday cookie cake.
And we’re clear, right? It’s definitely not Covid.
Also, I will no longer accept mushrooms on my pizza. Or in my food. Or on the trails I run.