I'd rather swallow glass--it's not just a clever expression

I had lunch at the SugarBowl yesterday, and I am troubled by the quantity of crunchy, broken ceramic/glass fragments in my food. I'm not kidding. Any amount of such fragments in food is troubling, really, so there's no scale. I managed to not eat most of the pieces, but I think I did swallow a few, and now I'm concerned about my internal organs. I feel fine, except for this general feeling of queasiness and discomfort that will result from asking oneself, every few seconds, "Does my stomach lining feel like it's torn, or has tiny shards of broken plate in it? How about my intestines?"

Actually, if you stop to focus on it, your body is a constant producer of tiny, insignificant pain/discomfort/danger signals. Sit still for a minute, concentrating on the question Is something wrong with me? and you'll see what I mean. I'm taking comfort in the knowledge that if there was something amiss with my organs, I would know. Like, I wouldn't be sitting here drinking coffee and pondering the relationship of the self to the body.

Probably.