Dying for Some Crab
Feb. 12, 2009 11:43 am
Updated: Feb. 13, 2009 8:55 am
I heard a story the other day about a friend's dad who is deathly allergic to shellfish, but unfortunately, he also can't bear to live without it—figuratively speaking of course. Literally, he can't live with it in his body. (I tell ya, shellfish. Can't live with it, can't live without it. Sheesh! What're you gonna do, right?) Well, he can't live with it, save some medical intervention, that is. Which is why he has been known to eat crab while sitting in the parking lot of a Seattle hospital.
I had to verify the facts because I could hardly believe what I was hearing. "What? You mean so he can eat the crab, then walk right into the ER?"
"Yeah," said my friend.
I know what you're thinking: Oh my God!
I know—that's what I said!
And I should re-emphasize that it's not like shellfish just gives him a rash—he actually flat lined in his daughter's apartment one time after eating some (I assume that time it was unintentional). So, he's not just going to be a little itchy after he eats the crab—or even very itchy; he's basically going to be knocking on heaven's door. Like, really loudly—while also ringing the bell in that extremely annoying manner of an impatient visitor. And while I've heard that Calamine lotion does wonders for topical allergic reactions, it doesn't do much for your typical case of dead. There's no ointment that alleviates that irritating dead you're experiencing. (Yeah, just to recap—if he eats crab, he could die. Now, that's someone who really likes crab.)
I mean, I would totally die (pun intended) if someone told me my latte days were over if I wanted to keep breathing, but I wouldn't actually put my life at risk for a Grande two-percent latte (with a little brown sugar, please). Even if it had that really good foam…no, I definitely, probably would not.
I'm pretty sure I still wouldn't do it if you sprinkled some vanilla powder on top.
Hmm, in a really pretty cup?—I didn't realize.
With a piece of biscotti?—I don't want to hear anymore—I mean it.
With a picture drawn into the foam? La-la-la…I can't hear you…la-la-la-la…I hear not what you are saying…la-la-la…because I am plugging my ears…la-la…and not listening anymore…la-la…la…
(Pssst. Meet me in the parking lot of Haborview Medical Center tomorrow at 9am, and bring the vanilla powder. Don't be late—something tells me timing could play an important role.)