I ate mold. : ( →[More:]

Not on purpose. I was in Connecticut Saturday, visiting my mom (she took a fall a few weeks ago and she's been at a rehab facility working her hip and her shoulder in physical therapy and coming along just fine, given she turned 95 yesterday -- nothing broken, thank goodness, just bruised and shaken), and, after our visit, my brother and sister-in-law invited me back to their house for a bite to eat before they took me back to the train, which was very kind of them. My sister-in-law made some hot dogs and had some cole slaw, which was fine, but there was, apparently, an issue with the rolls. Four hot dogs were boiling (she had left and eaten earlier), but there were only three and a half rolls. I said I'd be happy with regular bread, but my brother gave me the two whole rolls and kept the roll and a half for himself. I added mustard and sauerkraut, took a little slaw, and sat down.

I was starved. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and it was now dinner, and the hot dogs hit the spot. I ate one, no problem, and started on the second, and we're chatting away at the table, and I noticed a little green on my roll, but I thought it was slaw run-off, so I took another big bite, and then I realized. It was mold. Mold! I looked closer at the bite or so left of the second hot dog and saw the tell-tale green. Not a little green, but a lot of green, on the bottom of the roll, staining the plate. I never wanted to spit something out so badly in my life, but there I am with my brother and his wife, and they'd been so nice, picking me up from the train, taking me to see mom, feeding me, for the second time in three weeks. I couldn't spit it out. So I chewed it. Chewed it and swallowed and hid the remains of the greenish roll left in a bit of slaw and went quickly over to scrape my plate. Man, did it taste nasty. Sort of like soapy chlorophyll. Ugh. I kept up the cheery front, though, and swallowed down some water and hoped it wouldn't poison me. The whole train ride home I kept feeling like the mold was taking root in my mouth. I took out my little mirror and examined my tongue. Nothing. No green, but my mouth felt dry and grassy. And not even a Life Saver in my purse.

Later that night, at home, I got a little worried (it was a big bite of mold), and googled "ate bread mold." It didn't help to find out that some bread molds are indeed toxic. I considered calling the poison control center (by this time, Jon was very tired of hearing me moan, "I ate mold... I ate mold" whenever he walked through the room), but with a little more googling, I decided it was harmless; I didn't have any deleterious symptoms (nausea, vomitting) and it had been several hours by that point.

I should have been suspicious of those three and a half rolls.