Too Much of a Good Thing
My paternal grandmother Anna always kept a candy bowl full of Hershey’s Chocolate Kisses on a table in her home. It was a cut glass bowl through which you could see the tasty treats, and I imagine that sometimes the light would catch the cuts in the glass and make it glitter. Sometimes, mixed in, were the mini candy bars such as Krackle or Mr. Goodbar. Grandma also sometimes had available bags of chocolate chips, in her kitchen. I visited grandma perhaps once a week, in my younger years from age eight to 24, I think.
I’m not sure of the clinical definition of an addict, but, in some way, I’m probably a chocolate addict, to my detriment.
So one week, grandma, for whatever reason, gave me a whole bag of chocolate chips to take home, I think the six-ounce size (could it have been 12?). I’m not sure what I was thinking (or not thinking), but I ate the whole bag within an hour or two, not likely aware of possible consequences.
Soon enough, I began to have terrible stomach cramps. My mom took me to Kaiser emergency in Richmond, California. I recall the green walls of the hospital and the examining table. At first the doctor was puzzled, not sure of the cause of my discomfort. He started to talk about appendicitis and possible surgery. Somehow that sunk in to my dense mind, and/or he asked me what I had eaten recently.
When I told him that I’d eaten an entire bag of chocolate chips, then the doctor understood. My mother was very angry, more at my grandma than me. I don’t know if she had it out with my grandma or not.
Needless to say, I’m very careful these days about how much chocolate I eat.
clarakatalin 