Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: TUESDAY, August 10, 1993                   TAG: 9308130245
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: 1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: PAT DOOLEY LANDMARK NEWS SERVICE
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

INNOCENT-LOOKING FARE CAN FOOL EVEN A FOOD EDITOR

Better than to eat two pieces of fried chicken from a buffet in an uncooled house on one of the hottest nights of the year.

Or better, perhaps, than to linger over a turkey sandwich at an outdoor cafe earlier that day.

If I didn't know then, I certainly do now. Because something I ate in the hours preceding that mid-June evening revealed itself not long after midnight.

First, the severe headache. Too much exertion in the sun, I thought.

Then the nausea. Too much food, I reasoned. Yet I had nibbled only the chicken, a few vegetables and some corn bread.

Then the retching. One too many light beers? I didn't think so. Neither did the friend who chauffeured me to the emergency room two hours later - weak and trembling, my skin ghostly, my hair a stringy, matted mess.

I hardly cared; it was all I could do to pull myself up from the floor.

At the hospital, I answered a litany of questions about insurance and my health history. I scrawled my name on a couple of forms I didn't read. And I waited.

In my mind I ran down the lists of foods I'd eaten in the past 24 hours, blaming the chicken or turkey for contorting an evening I'd looked forward to into one that would vie for a spot on my "10 worst" list.

It seems I'd also picked one of the busiest nights of the year to be ill. I was still waiting nearly 90 minutes later - thinking I could just as well sit out the night at home - when an apologetic nurse and doctor appeared.

I recounted my list of symptoms and suspicions. They asked more questions, checked my blood pressure, pulse and other vitals and later verified what my head and stomach told me: "acute food poisoning."

I had joined the ranks of some 9 million people a year who fall victim to tainted foods. My symptoms pointed to salmonella - a frequent culprit in poultry.

But, as in most instances, no culture was taken; my case would go unreported, unnoticed by the Centers for Disease Control, which compiles statistics.

Still, I spent another several hours at the hospital, on intravenous to replace fluids and quell the nausea. About 7 a.m. my friend, who'd camped most of the night in the hospital's waiting room, returned to deliver me home. Dazed, exhausted and still nauseated, I was surprised to see another day had dawned. But it would be two more days before I'd venture out into the summer sun.

Even a small journey to the store for chicken soup, apple juice, pretzels and flat Coke seemed too troublesome. My friend to the rescue again.

As I retold my story later, friends recalled similar experiences. Most said they too would have snacked on the chicken or downed the turkey sandwich with little regard for unseen dangers.

"But I'm the food editor," I responded. "I should have known better."

A couple of quick phone calls to some peers around the country turned up another irony: Food editors are no strangers to food poisoning, possibly because they sample so many curious edibles.

One friend, however, admits eating meals before attending buffet parties, where she skips meats, seafood and mayonnaise- and egg-laden foods altogether.

I haven't reached that stage yet. But I do think twice before tasting. And sometimes, I just plain don't.

\ Pat Dooley is Flavor editor for The Virginian-Pilot and the Ledger Star