Interview From Hell
Asked a number of hellish questions we were brutalised until we provided answers.
What follows is the result of many hours of toe-nail yanking, electrocution, tooth pulling, foot beating and kidney pounding.
Day from Hell
In hindsight, probably the day I bought my house and took on a mortgage.
I detest my birthday. I hate how people always make a fuss over something I didn’t even have anything to do with; being born. It’s not like it’s my accomplishment.
I am notorious for staying friends with ex-boyfriends though, which makes for interesting parties and would be other people’s hell I suppose. J
I have several. They all involve the loss of my sister.
The day my mom died. I was eight months pregnant. She never got to meet my little Beelzebubba.
It happens once in a blue moon, when you start by dropping the soap in the shower, knock your forehead on the shelf, open up a gash, faint because of the blood, come in late for work, forget your lunch and wallet, realize you also forgot to put on makeup or underwear, and you have an important meeting in which The Big Boss asks you for a summary of the report you just cannot remember. Me? Never happened.
This is a tough one. There are so many different kinds of bad days. I am going to go with wisdom tooth extraction day. Like a lot of people, I had braces as a kid. The dentists warned my parents that my wisdom teeth would eventually need to come out, but I managed to make it until my late 20’s before I actually let that happen. This was stupid on my part because by then, the teeth were formed, had roots, and were much harder to get out. I’ll admit, I was a huge baby about this. The dentist gave me Valium to take before my appointment. My husband and I went to breakfast, expecting I wouldn’t see solids for at least a few days in spite of my dentist promising me I’d be eating steak dinner that night. Liar. I reacted to the Valium and ultimately ended up begging my husband, tearfully not to bring me to the dentist. It was worse than I imagined. The crack of the teeth as he wrestled them out of my mouth still haunts me. I was climbing up the back of the chair as he wrenched and pulled. Nitrous gas was a joke. I’d read great stories about people hallucinating pink elephants on the stuff. I must’ve had the placebo or I’m really tolerant. I saw nothing but blood and broken teeth. On the ride home I finally relaxed and in my half-drugged stupor I looked over at my husband and smiled. My teeth were covered in blood, strings of it running between my lips. He grimaced and as comfortingly as he could, asked me to stop smiling.
I don’t claim to have a lot of bad days, or at least, none that I remember in great detail. There’s only one that stands out as particularly hellish. The day the sheriff knocked on my door at 8:30 (surprise!) to serve me with papers suing for full-custody/divorce from my husband who I still lived with (and shared a bed) and who had, just moments earlier, eaten breakfast with me and wished me a good day before he trundled off to work. What made the day even better? He moved all our money from our joint account into one only in his name. If I had known what he was plotting, I would have punched him in the nuts instead of cooking him breakfast.
Illness from Hell
Luckily I’ve never been too ill, but one of the worst was when I got alcohol poisoning and had to have my stomach pumped. The colour in that tank must have been what evil looks like. I’m sure I saw something move around inside it.
When I was 15 and on a school exchange trip, I had an illness that remains a mystery to this day. I went for weeks exhausted, nauseated and sensitive to light, but no headaches. Doctors did all sorts of tests, but never figured out what it was. From one day to the next, it was gone.
My mood disorder and various other fascinating labels. They’ve cluster fucked my life more than I care to mention, and they’re devilish hard to *recover* from. They’re illnesses you just have to adapt to living with.
I was diagnosed with strep throat the day before I flew to Oahu for vacation. On the plane, I puked three times in the cupboard they call a bathroom. Ended up in the emergency room in Hawai’i, totally disoriented. Slept the entire trip away. Got home, went back to the emergency room. I was so out of it, I couldn’t remember my name. CAT scans, cancer screenings, all sorts of shit. I missed two weeks of work. I think it was a reaction to Amoxicillin. Go fuckin’ figure.
I don’t remember what it’s called, but it fucks up your inner ear, so whenever you stand up, you lose your balance and fall. Of course, it has to happen when you’re on the stairs, going to the bathroom in the middle of the night, putting on socks…bloody, my friends. Very bloody.
GI virus. I know, almost enough said right there. I literally could not leave the bathroom and the one time I did, it was to go to the ER of the hospital I worked at for almost ten years. It’s an old hospital in an urban area and it’s a popular spot for the mental health challenged who conveniently get held in the ER until a bed is ready on the psych floors. The conversations, rants, and odd behaviors are entertaining enough, but try having an IV and sharing a common bathroom, one that looked like it was in a third world prison circa 1925, with them. Nothing says illness from hell like infectious looking facilities and on the lam psych patients.
During my pregnancy, I was plagued by dizzy spells. The room would spin and I’d have my head stuck in the toilet soon after. I had no idea what triggered them. I would be fine one moment, then dizzy and puking the next. The worst was when the spells struck at work. The only way to cope was to lie on the floor and close my eyes and hope that the dizziness passed without me losing the contents of my stomach. I’m certain I looked dead to clients passing by my office. I’d hear a gasp and have to explain. My boss finally told me to keep my door shut until maternity leave started.
Check out the rest of the City of Hell crew’s Interview from Hell:
November 14: Colin Barnes – Ride from Hell; Boss/Coworker from Hell
November 15: Victoria Griesdoorn – Pet from Hell; Car from Hell
November 16: Ren Warom – Day from Hell; Illness from Hell
November 17: Kendall Grey – Vacation from Hell; Family Member from Hell
November 18: Anne Michaud – Kid from Hell; Friend from Hell
November 21: Belinda Frisch – Binge from Hell; Book from Hell
November 22: Amy Overley – Meal from Hell; Bug Bite from Hell
I hope the product of our agonising torture provided you with a few moments of amusement. Please feel free to leave mocking comments and by all means wait with unbearable anticipation for the arrival of the Anthology in December. It will leave you screaming through the night.