When I woke up this morning, I didn’t know I’d be ending my day in a hospital, frantically Googling “how to survive food poisoning without crying in public.” But, as life often does, it had other plans—and a dark sense of humor.
It all started at work. I was in the middle of an email about something riveting (probably office supplies) when my phone buzzed. It was a call from my son’s school. You know that sinking feeling when the school calls during work hours? It’s like when your dentist gives you that look after a six-month floss-free streak.
“Your son isn’t feeling well,” they said. “We’re calling an ambulance.”
AN AMBULANCE. One minute, I’m complaining about paper jams; the next, I’m grabbing my bag and sprinting out the door like I’m in the Olympics for anxious parents.
Hospital Adventures
By the time I got to the hospital, my son was lying on a gurney, pale as a ghost but insisting he was fine. If “fine” means looking like you just stepped off a haunted hayride, then sure, he was nailing it. The doctor said it looked like food poisoning, and as I was preparing for a long night of Gatorade runs and bathroom trips, his phone rang.
It was his friend.
“Hey, man,” the voice croaked. “I’m at the hospital. Food poisoning. Ambulance.”
Oh, the plot thickens.
Turns out, the two of them had embarked on a late-night fast-food adventure the night before. I’m talking greasy burgers, dubious chicken nuggets, and fries so salty they could moonlight as breakup texts. What started as innocent teenage indulgence had escalated into a full-blown gastrointestinal war zone.
Fast Food Betrayal
At this point, I couldn’t help but laugh (quietly, of course—hospital decorum and all). Fast food is supposed to be quick and satisfying, not a direct ticket to the ER. But there they were, two teenagers, united in their poor life choices and shared misery.
Meanwhile, I’m sitting there, balancing hospital paperwork, a bottle of water, and my sanity. My son, still pale but now slightly dramatic, looks up at me and says, “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“The worst thing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “What about that time you fell off your bike because you were trying to do a TikTok dance?”
“That didn’t involve an IV,” he replied solemnly. Fair point.
Lessons Learned (Sort Of)
By the time the doctor discharged him, he’d been hydrated, lectured about questionable dietary habits, and gifted a list of foods to avoid for the next 48 hours. His friend was also on the mend, though we’re all questioning the wisdom of late-night nuggets now.
As we left, my son turned to me and said, “I don’t think I’ll ever eat fast food again.”
“Sure,” I replied, knowing full well that the siren call of a drive-thru would lure him back eventually. Youthful optimism is a beautiful thing.
Moral of the Story
Life is unpredictable, fast food is sometimes faster than you’d like, and teenagers will always find new and exciting ways to remind you why you can’t have nice things—like a calm workday. If nothing else, this experience taught us one important lesson: When in doubt, maybe skip the midnight burger run.
And if you ever find yourself in a similar situation, here’s a tip: keep an electrolyte drink handy and download a good food tracker app. It won’t prevent the bad decisions, but at least you’ll know what not to eat next time.
Here’s hoping for a less eventful tomorrow. For now, I’m off to disinfect everything my son touched in the last 24 hours and stock up on crackers. Cheers to surviving another parenting curveball—one laugh (and stomach ache) at a time!