Hey, Batter Batter! Part 2

Steve slammed on the brakes, and veered to the side of the road.

The officer approached our window. “License and registration, “ he said.

This reminded me of 24 years earlier, when we got pulled over on the way to the hospital to deliver Parker.

(Just to be clear, we didn’t deliver Parker. The doctors delivered Parker.)

Steve had used the phrase, “Officer, my wife is with baby,” and he let us go.

Unfortunately, that wouldn’t work today, so Steve said the next best thing.

“Officer, my wife is with batter.”

I’m not sure if the officer completely understood, but after eyeing the bowl in my lap, we were on our way.

Ten minutes later, Steve checked me into Exer Urgent Care. 

“My wife had too much batter,” he told the receptionist.

“Batter?” the woman asked.

“Batter,” Steve confirmed.

The woman raised an eyebrow.

Am I the only one ODing on cookie dough?

In the examining room, we had a similar reaction from Nurse John, who scrunched his face as he read the notes. “So, basically, you ate a large quantity of cookie batter?” he asked.

Sheesh, have these people never made cookies before?!

While Nurse John checked my blood pressure, he joked with me, trying to make me feel better. He had an excellent bedside manner and if I wasn’t so vomity, I feel like we could have exchanged some real witty repartee. 

Next time, I promise… less barfing, more banter.

A few minutes later, the doctor appeared and after checking my chart, she turned to Nurse John. “Batter?” she mouthed.

“Batter,” he nodded.

She scratched her head.

Lady, you went to medical school. I’ve got to believe there was a rotation on “batter.”

“Based on the amount of batter you consumed, how many cookies do you think it was equivalent to?” 

Fifteen.

“2, maybe 3,” I said.

“Hmm,” she said.

Clearly, I was lying right through my dough hole.

After jotting down more info, the doctor said, “We’re going to give you a shot of Zofran, stat!” 

Usually, when the doctors say “Stat,” it’s anything but! (Read: https://staging.midlifebloomer.com/fractured-tales/)

However, at Exer Urgent Care, STAT MEANS STAT!

Another nurse appeared (STAT), and gave me a shot in the ass of Zofran.

It was definitely the highlight of my day.

Besides eating all that delicious cookie dough.

Then, Nurse John administered an IV of fluids, and I’m not sure what these fluids were (Dr. Pepper?), but an hour later, I walked out of the room, feeling almost normal.

“How are you doing, hon?” Steve asked, putting his arm around me.

“Batter now,” I joked.

Look at me, throwing out a well-placed pun.

If only Nurse John could see me now.

That night, my friend, Luann called to check up on me.

I updated her on the batter fiasco and she informed me that, according to her research, 1 in 20,000 eggs have salmonella, and there’s a chance I ate that egg today.

What are the odds?!

Oh, yeah, 1 in 20,000.

That week, I did my own investigating and found a ton of articles about the dangers of ingesting cookie dough. 

Most of the articles started with, “What to do if your 8-year-old eats too much batter…”

What about your 55-year-old?

Ageism, am I right?

In the end, though, there were definitely silver linings.

One of which was that I now have a new favorite medical facility.

Exer Urgent Care, I’m giving you ★★★★★!

Even though you only gave me ★★.

(“Pukey, poorly dressed, lackluster personality…”)

However, the biggest takeaway from all of this was the lesson I learned.

The next time I make cookies and that little voice inside of me whispers, “Hey, Batter Batter…”

I will respond with, “No Batter, No Batter, No Batter…”