Poison Control Moments

So I have some kind of funny/kind of pathetic stories to tell here...

The other day I was remembering some of the more notable moments of my adult life, when I stumbled upon some pretty crazy incidents in my memory rolodex, which have a common thread. That thread is Poison Control, and the victim is me.

1. Jon and I were enjoying a fun Saturday morning on 315 First Street in Davis. I was making oatmeal ginger pancakes; Jon was doing dishes. The recipe called for powdered ginger; I pulled two unlabeled spice jars out of the cupboard. They both looked yellowy/beigey, so I decided to do a sniffing test. Unfortunately, I sampled the ground mustard powder first. As I inhaled a HUGE sniff, Jon accidentally bumped me, and knocked the spice jar right up to my nose. The jostling of his bump, combined with my ultra-huge inhale, created an almost-fatal combination. "I'm dying! I'm dying!" I yelled. Jon, as I remember, was laughing. I was crying. Hot, spicy mustard was penetrating my brain. My head and nose were on fire. I was having an out-of-body experience. Worse, my anxiety kicked in: "am I going to die? Jon, quick, call poison control. I don't know what to do, this is killing me," etc....etc....etc....So after a 5 minute phone call to Poison Control, and a simplified description of the incident--"my wife accidentally snorted hot mustard powder...," I was assured that I would indeed survive and that all I needed to do was stand in the shower, head tilted back, nose in the path of the water for 15 mins. I came out a deflated prune, but at least I was still alive.

2. A few weeks later, I was working on a stained glass project and I happened to notice the bottle of the soldering flux. It said something to the effect of: "Do not injest. Will cause immediate and sudden death." (Okay, maybe it wasn't THAT forceful, but almost.) "Hmmmm....," thought I, "why would anyone ever want to injest that stuff?" Unfortunately, I couldn't find my trusty little flux paintbrush. So, I smartly used the eraser tip of a pencil. No biggie. All was well until two weeks later when I picked up said pencil and inserted eraser tip into mouth. (This is where I still fail to understand the irony: I NEVER PUT PENCIL ERASERS IN MY MOUTH! The whole thought of the rubbery texture mixed with the rusty metal totally grosses me out.) But, I happened to put this eraser in my mouth....and I noticed an odd taste. And then I remembered the DEATH clause on the flux. I started to panic. I think I might have even started to cry!?! (This was pre-Paxil, thank you very much.) And then I turned to the one person who could help me, "Jon, will you please call poison control?" This time my prescription was a few big glasses of water. That easy. And I thought I was dying!

3. This next story takes place at least a year and a half post flux incident. I was at home, putting the final touches on a delightful, yet time consuming dinner...(California Pizza Kitchen's BBQ Chicken Chop Salad, complete with homemade ranch, and corn tortilla strips.) I had spent at least 2 hours on this dinner and was really excited to taste the so-called fruits of my labors. Instead of frying the corn tortillas, I got a really good and health-conscious idea to broil them in the oven. That was a good idea until I totally forgot about them until the smoke was streaming out of my oven. I opened the oven door and flames--huge ones--dashed out at me. Instead of completely panicking, I grabbed the fire extinguisher that my dear dad once doorbell ditched on our apartment door (with some Twizzlers) to "extinguish the flames" of an argument we had gotten into. I heroically pulled the pin, and sprayed----RIGHT INTO MY FACE! I screamed, turned the stupid thing around, and put out the rest of the fire, spraying my dinner masterpiece at the same time. This time, it was just me and baby Leah at home. She was 18 months old and quite frightened to see me covered--and I mean TOTALLY COVERED (eyelashes, lids, lips, hair, nostrils), EVERYTHING-- in a film of white powder. I was quite frightened that I had just inhaled toxic materials and even started thinking about my possible demise. I took a deep breath, called poison control myself, and got my 3rd (and hopefully last) report written up. I showered for another 15 minutes (I'm beginning to think this is a common poison control answer), while my dear friend Natalie watched frightened Leah (yes, Natalie came over at a moment's notice). I dumped the CPK salad, hit the Taco Bell drive through, and still made it on time to my British Lit class at Sac State.

And you always thought Poison Control was for toddlers who busted into the cleaning supplies.