I’m A Believer

I consider myself a rational individual. I can say with some confidence that I have a firm grasp on reality and can be fairly reasonable as to the statistical probability of most events and phenomena. After all, I took a statistics course in college and earned, and I mean EARNED, an A-. Is it likely we’ll experience warm-wash-cloth-in-the-face humid summers in the Southeast? Without a doubt. Or poor customer service at retail? These days you can bet on it. Higher gas prices in the summer? Yup.

But there is another side of me that is drawn to the unexplained and unanswerable. I’ve been this way for years. The existence of intelligent life on other planets, for example. Who can really give a definitive answer? My rational self wrestles with this one simply because the vastness of the universe. Seems like there could be at least one other planet similar to ours spinning around one of a billion stars, doesn’t it? Nessie and the Yeti. Who am I to judge?

I have a soft spot for conspiracy theories as well. In fact, one of my biggest treats is driving home alone very late at night and listening to Art Bell’s Coast To Coast on the car stereo. JFK, Marilyn Monroe, Amelia Earhart, Elvis, Morrison, Lennon – if there’s a conspiracy theory out there, I’ve probably done at least a little digging about them.

Then there’s spontaneous human combustion, a highly controversial phenomenon with compelling arguments on both sides of the issue. Proponents believe that for an unknown reason, some people have literally caught fire with no active external factors responsible. The heat with which they burn is so fierce often times nothing is left but a foot in a slipper or melted jewelry leaving a pool of 14 karat gold on a charred front porch. No bones. No teeth. The prevailing theory is that the human body falls victim to some freak internal chemical reaction that cannot be anticipated in advance. There are no warning signs. Nothing that could be detected in an annual physical. One minute Uncle Don is splitting logs in the back yard and the next minute the only thing remaining of him is a scorched hatchet handle and the metal plate implanted into his head after the war.

I actually have some personal history with spontaneous human combustion. In high school I had my weekday morning routine down pat. I would wake up at 630A and drowsily climb up the stairs to the kitchen for breakfast. My mom always made breakfast for me. “It’s the most important meal of the day,” she still says. Eggs, hot cereal, toast, fresh squeezed orange juice – it was like growing up in a bed and breakfast. She was big on vitamins as well. I took some capsules containing an odd grayish powder and some that were filled with oils. I think some even had royal jelly in them, whatever that was. Some were big and some were small, but none smelled like anything one should swallow by choice. We were never a sugary cereal or Flintstones vitamin family.

After breakfast I would go back downstairs to take a shower and get dressed to leave for school. One morning my senior year of high school I made it to this point of my AM ritual, letting the hot steam from the shower warm the cold bathroom, chilled from the foggy Northern California evenings. I stepped into the shower, letting the warm water awaken my body, keeping my head under the strong jets above me. Just as I was reaching for the shampoo in order to lather, rinse and repeat, I smelled a very strange odor. It smelled a little like fingernails or hair burning, but not quite so biting. With my head still under the showerhead, my mouth open like a fish gulping air, I took a breath and inhaled again through my nose. The pungent scent was still detectable, in fact it was a bit stronger now. I whispered whew to myself through my fishy lips to audibly acknowledge the acrid aroma and something caught my eye. Was that smoke? I thought to myself. Whew, I whispered again, this time more pronounced. Sure enough, another plume of smoke escaped from my mouth. I exhaled again, only this time with little puffs. It was as if I was a chain smoker making smoke rings in a jazz bar or a Native American sending smoke signals to my tribe in the valley below. The smoke was definitely coming from my mouth. Which meant it was really coming from somewhere inside my body. Somewhere internal.

Of course I reached the only logical conclusion: I was spontaneously combusting from the inside. What other explanation could there be? My nose, not yet engulfed in the wicked bio-flame, could still detect the unnatural stink and there was clearly smoke coming out of my mouth. And the irony was the fact that I was in the shower, soaking wet and therefore as inflammable as could be. On the outside anyway.

My short life began to flash before my eyes as I broke out into a cold sweat. Why, God? Why me? Why this way? I wonder what body part will be left once I’ve been consumed by the blazing betrayal of my own body chemistry? I’m naked, for crying out loud. I can only hope I’m incinerated in my entirety. Maybe they’ll find my retainer wires spinning and floating above the bathtub drain. I knew spontaneous combustion was real. This is what I get for ever doubting its validity. The funny thing is, I don’t really feel warm. I’m not in pain. I’m just smelling something gross and puffing little clouds of-

I coughed. More smoke. I coughed again. This time a little wad of something landed on the back of my tongue from somewhere inside the inferno called my torso. It tasted awful. And it had the consistency of phlegm, but really hard, phlegm. Probably my spleen or a piece of a lung, flying upwards like an ember at a campfire. Or…like gelatin…like the gelatin they make some of my vitamins with…the ones with the vitamin powder in them! Oh joy! I’ve been spared!

As I finished breakfast earlier that morning, one of my vitamins lodged somewhere in my throat without me knowing it. As I went about my morning routine, the gelatin capsule slowly disintegrated, leaving the pungent dusty substance to be carried out of my body with each exhalation, forming bitter smoke-like columns.

Needless to say, my step had a little more spring that day and I saw the world from a new set of eyes. I had been given a second chance. One that I would never take for granted…

To my knowledge, I am still the only known survivor of spontaneous human combustion. It is not a title I take lightly. Since my brush with death, I’m much more tolerant of seemingly far-fetched stories or theories that most rational people would dismiss as crazy talk. After all, I’m living proof…