This may be my last post. I have flesh-eating bacteria.
Ok maybe I’m a bit of a hypochondriac. And maybe my mother was right when she assured me that I do not have all of the symptoms of prostate cancer. But this time is no joke. WebMD confirmed it and they know everything. According to them, flesh-eating bacteria is this:
And it’s caused by this:
Yup. I have strep. So clearly, I have flesh-eating bacteria.
I feel faint. (Crap. Is that a symptom?)
I’m sure I got it from that 20-pound Petri dish I gave birth to. The doctor says that she’s “discovering the world with her mouth” but I think it’s way more sinister than that.
I’ve seen her in action. She spends all day crawling, creeping, searching for the next pandemic to rear it’s ugly face so she can lap it up and squirrel it away for that one weak moment when she can unleash it on my face. Yes, hiding behind every gummy grin and belly laugh is a crippling case of explosive diarrhea.
You think she’s coo’ing but what she’s really saying is, “I just gave you Pinkeye and now everyone will think you pooped in your eye because everyone knows Pinkeye is caused by exposure to fecal matter.”
I know it’s true because my husband came home with Pinkeye the other day. So naturally I said, “What’d you poop in your eye?” And the baby smirked.
Ok. I’m going to the ER now. I think the flesh-eating bacteria went to my brain.