Ghosts Among Us - James Van Praagh [8]
As I crawled my way up the 405 freeway in the middle of a beautiful morning, I fantasized about how great it would be when we could think about a place and be there without having to deal with any type of traffic. By the time I finally reached my destination, it was past lunchtime, and I was starving. I pulled into the first strip center I could find and headed for the nearest sandwich shop. My meeting was to start in five minutes, so I stood next to my car and wolfed down my turkey, lettuce, and tomato sandwich as quickly as I could.
Fortunately, my meeting went well, even though my stomach suffered from the aftereffects of my lunch. I happily agreed to create a pilot of an on-air, live-audience demonstration of talking to the dead. After the meeting ended, I headed to the parking lot, not looking forward to the long, tiresome return trip to Orange County. Fortunately, my friend Victoria Recano called and invited me to dinner. “I’m so glad you called,” I said to Victoria. “The thought of another two and a half hours in the car…”
The two of us met for dinner in Beverly Hills at Wolfgang Puck’s trendy new restaurant, CUT. Victoria and I had struck up a friendship while shooting my five-minute segments for Entertainment Tonight’s “The Insider” show. We both were in the mood for steak, so we ordered identical dinners topped off by a delicious red wine. After dinner, I headed for my part-time apartment across from CBS Studios. It was my home away from home when The Ghost Whisperer was in production.
In the middle of the night, I was unexpectedly awakened by an intense ache in my stomach and had just enough time to make it to the bathroom. The dinner I had so enjoyed just a few hours before stared back at me from the bathroom sink. It had to be a reaction to the wine, I thought, as I climbed back into bed and tried to go back to sleep. However, it was not meant to be. For the next several hours, I was in and out of the bathroom until I was too tired to move. By six in the morning, I had decided that I would feel better if I was in my own home, snug in my own bed. With all the strength I could muster, I got dressed and got on the road again. I thought my nightmare would soon come to an end when I reached the safety of my home. However, halfway there, the traffic on the freeway came to a dead stop. All I could see was an unending sea of red taillights. Several hours and a dozen restroom stops later, I exited the freeway and finally reached my destination. I immediately phoned my Los Angeles doctor, who also happened to be a friend, and told her my problem.
In her matter-of-fact tone, she said, “Honey, you have food poisoning. Come into the office, and I’ll give you something for it.”
“No! I can’t!” I practically screamed. “I’m already back home in Laguna. I can’t even hold my head up.” (I am sure that those of you who have had the unfortunate experience of food poisoning can empathize with my outburst.)
“Stay in bed and drink plenty of fluids and get some Gatorade. I’ll call in a prescription for an anti-nausea medication.”
“Do you think I should go to the emergency room?”
“I don’t think it’s necessary. They would probably give you the same medication. Just drink fluids and take the medication. Don’t worry, you’ll feel better soon. I’ll check with you in the morning.”
I hung up and suddenly thought of my dinner companion, Victoria. I called her to see if she was okay.
“I feel fine,” she said with a sympathetic tone in her voice. “Did you have anything else to eat yesterday?”
Suddenly I zeroed