An irritating, impossible-to-reach itch on my scalp was the first sign of what was to come.

“Have you dyed your hair?” asked my friend Anne when I reached the office. I noticed she was eyeing my head with thinly veiled distaste.

“No, why?” I asked, involuntarily reaching up to touch it.

“It looks a little…. ah…. greenish,” she replied, her voice dying to a whisper at the end.

A quick trip to the restroom revealed this was, indeed, the case. And that was not the worst – some of the increasingly dark green hairs were beginning to sprout even finer hairs that looked like leaves!

I swallowed hard and looked away, trying to control the lurch in my stomach. Feeling faint, I strove to remain calm as I ran out of the office and drove home as fast as I could.

By the time I reached home, my hair was definitely plant-like, my nose was turning red, and my eyes were faintly purple where they should have been white. My vision seemed clouded by a purple haze.

I knew I was in trouble, but there was no way I was going to a hospital or doctor’s office looking like that! Instead, I called a friend.

“Marty!” I almost screamed into the phone. “I’m turning into a plant!”

I could hear the smile in his voice. “Not a cockroach?”

“No, you idiot!” I was in full panic mode now. “Get your ass over here right now!”

I had never called Marty names, not even mild ones such as “idiot” or “moron,” so my words apparently convinced him that I was serious. He replied meekly, “I’ll be right there. Try to relax.”

I knew he meant well, but really, try to relax? I ran back to the mirror and saw that my nose had become an upside-down strawberry, complete with leaves on the bottom. I looked as if I had a green mustache. My eyes were clearly transforming into grapes.

I looked down to see that my fingers were growing longer and turning yellow. “Bananas,” I thought with a sinking feeling.

In addition, there was something underneath my blouse, below my left breast. I unbuttoned the blouse to reveal light green, one-half inch wide leaves growing in a circular pattern. They literally grew longer as I watched, and I tossed the useless blouse aside.

Realizing that I would soon be immobilized – the odd feelings in my legs told me something was changing down there as well – I went to the living room and laid on the couch to await Marty. He would let himself in; I knew he still had the key I had given him when we were lovers.

I must have passed out at some point, because I wasn’t conscious of his entrance. I wasn’t aware when he gently checked my vital signs, then lovingly picked me up in his arms and placed me in his car, driving quickly to his research lab at the hospital. On the way he alerted his staff, informing them that he would bring me in through the back door to avoid sensation if others saw me.

Some unknown time later, I began to wake up. “Susan? Can you hear me?” The voice was tinny and distant, but I recognized it.

“Marty!” I screamed – at least in my brain I did. But nothing came out, and I assumed that my body had changed so much I could no longer produce sound. How could I possibly communicate?

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