It's All Gonna Suck

My original plan was to play with something else for this particular “shell,” but I changed my mind after a conversation on the Fourth of July.

Incidentally, no, I haven’t planned to use this for a book proposal. Not at the moment, anyway. Maybe I’ll see how it’s received here. 😂

Table of Contents

• Chapter 1:
  In which a (probably-not-so-innocent-actually) McDonald’s cheeseburger gets the blame for the following three decades of uncertainty and misery

• Chapter 2:
  In which I spend six months (more or less; I was allowed out for semi-good behavior) in the hospital while a certifiable asshat with a medical license determines what “sick enough” means to him before removing a quasi-pissed off gall bladder

• Chapter 3:
  In which (more than three) ignorant medical professionals suggest the source of my nausea and cramping is the result of my excess weight and refer me to a gym membership

• Chapter 4:
  In which I scare the shit out of a nurse and ruin my favorite t-shirt, simultaneously, with the most spectacular nosebleed of all time (AKA: Fun with esophageal manometry)

• Chapter 5:
  In which a “harmless” and “simple” swallow test permanently removes the following foods from my diet FOREVER: Speculoos cookies, canned peaches, wheat crackers, applesauce, and Barium

• Chapter 6:
  In which a robot overhauls the anatomy of my stomach (to the fury of my gastroenterologist), resulting in a month of liquified food, spectacular weight loss, and…absolutely no change in symptoms

• Chapter 7:
  In which I lose four more organs (nothing vital, calm down), more weight (yes, really), remove an annoying clinging parasite (my word, not an official medical term), and still spend the majority of my life sick and miserable

• Chapter 8:
  In which a medical professional finally finds something out of the ordinary on an ultra-tiny and specialized ultrasound scan and sends me to a university hospital—only to dash my hopes on the rocks of despair (Spoiler: It’s the robot’s fault)

• Chapter 9:
  In which a chance meeting clears the cheeseburger’s name and makes me crack open my memory for childhood escapades in long grass and along hiking trails in search of an elusive tick bite

• Chapter 10:
  In which I overhaul my diet completely, embrace the “fegan” lifestyle, and become That Person at every restaurant I venture into for the rest of eternity with my handy homemade allergy card

• Appendix

  • Quick Service Restaurants With Accessible Ingredient Lists

  • AGS-Friendly Sit-Down Restaurants

  • Every Doctor Who Refused to Listen to Me

• Acknowledgments