Suzy Says

At least so far.

It’s 2:00 in the morning. I made the mistake of taking some Excedrin for my raging headache, with the result that I now have a headache and what I call “aspirin tummy”. Throbbing head; stomach a vat of seething acid. I tried to go to sleep and forget about the whole thing, but after an hour of tossing and turning and irritating the cats (who were setting a good example by sleeping curled up cutely together until I kept waking them up*), I had to admit defeat.

When I was in second grade, I had a truly vile teacher named Mrs. Conneman. She was so mean to me that I used to have extremely vivid fantasies about my parents sweeping into the classroom and carrying me off (with a quick stop at my locker for important personal belongings, like my red rain boots). I still remember looking back at the old hag with total triumph as I was borne away from her clutches, once and for all. I’ve always been a pretty talented day-dreamer.

Not surprisingly, I had bad stomach aches in those days. Apparently they were quite common among Conneman students (though this did not seem to lead to an official inquiry or get her fired, because she was still there when I was in 6th grade). Rather than getting rid of the cause of the belly aches, I got dosed with a hideous dark-green liquid to dull the pain. If it were in a fairy tale, it would at least have turned me into a toad, and probably something worse. It was the liquid version of Mrs. Conneman. My hopes were temporarily raised when I learned it also came in chocolate, but that turned out to be a brown, chalky nightmare that was, if possible, even worse than the original flavor.

When I was in 6th grade, I was horror-struck to learn that our class would be presenting a Christmas play to none other than the evil Mrs. Conneman’s latest batch of victims. Despite the protective camouflage of my full-body Christmas tree costume, I was convinced she’d know it was me and do something horrible. I don’t know what I thought she could do but believe me, I was ready for some medicine by the time I tremblingly approached her door like it was Death Row.

Needless to say, nothing happened. Undoubtedly she was fully occupied with destroying the psyches of those currently in her class to bother with the damaged goods of years gone by. Nearly 40 years and 4,000 miles later, though, a stomach and headache bring me right back to that day.

*And looking at me as if to say, “What the hell? Stop imitating a tossed salad and go to sleep already!”