By now you’ve probably heard the tragic story of the three people who died last week from suspected mushroom poisoning after a family lunch in Victoria.
While this sounds shocking and unusual, I speak from first hand experience when I say it isn’t. See, I have a confession to make. While I didn’t feed my mother potentially deadly mushrooms, I did rustle up a dish for her that accidentally contained the hallucinogenic strain.
But let me say for the record, it wasn’t my fault. Well… not quite.
I set the tone for you. It was a dull Friday night in 2015. I had just started working at breakfast radio and getting up early was starting to affect my social life. Looking back, I would say I suffered from burnout.
On this particular evening, I craved nothing but a quiet night on the ranch with a home cooked dinner, a glass of wine, my mom’s company, and a good movie.
But it didn’t turn out that way. Oh no.
Jana Hocking at her family’s farm, where a quiet Friday night with her mother turned into a 10-hour ordeal after accidentally feeding her magic mushrooms from the paddock
Jana’s mother on the farm – her intense hallucinations started to hit while she was watching a movie
After driving for a few hours to our family farm, I was greeted in the long driveway by Mom carrying our dog in her arms and looking a little stressed. She had just discovered he had a tick and had to rush him to the vet so I could make dinner.
I’ve been craving fettuccine boscaiola all week. Well, let’s face it, it’s the only thing I can really cook. That and spaghetti jaffles.
I explored the kitchen for the ingredients. Bacon… tap! Cream… tap! Mushrooms… what do they do in the freezer? Oh yes, tap!
I tasted it (not bad, if I do say so myself) and set the table.
By the time Mom got home, we were both starving, and we plowed into it.
And then it got really interesting.
Feeling a little drunk (I had finished a large glass of wine), I told Mom to lie down.
I was amazed, I’d only had one glass of wine, and this girl isn’t a Cadbury (a glass and a half and you’re drunk).
I tried to watch TV, but the room was spinning and everything went a little blurry.
Wait a second. *lightbulb*
“Muuuuum!” I screamed. “Where did you get those mushrooms in the freezer?”
‘Oh, we plucked them from the lower paddock a few weeks ago. I didn’t want them to spoil, so I skimmed them off and put them in the freezer.’
*another lightbulb* ‘Mom…I think we’re off the mushrooms!’
Jana’s fettucine boscaiola that was accidentally laced with magic mushrooms from the paddock at the back of her family’s farm
We looked at each other. Could we be? We burst out laughing. I’m talking about falling to the ground, tears flowing from laughter.
I realized I had put all the mushrooms in the dish. At least six of the suckers.
Enter paranoia. Aren’t there psychiatric wards full of people who never got out of their travels? I was sure because one of our neighbors had ended up in it for over a month after accidentally eating the wrong type of mushroom.
I looked up at Mama and her pupils were huge and very dark. I ran to the mirror. Mine had also turned into giant alien eyes.
I turned on the tap to wash my face and spiders came running out.
In retrospect, I realize that these were not, in fact, real spiders. But hey, that’s what I saw.
I yelled that I thought we should go to the hospital (as a reminder, I think I yelled “hos-sta-pit-all”).
Mom called a friend who is a doctor and he told us to just “wait and see.” I then called a friend who I knew had tried magic mushrooms before. He burst out laughing and told me the best thing we could do is sit under the stars and stare at the moon.
With all the spiders coming from everywhere and mom’s giant eyes driving me crazy, I decided to scrap the “moon staring” suggestion and do the most obvious: put on my sweatpants for some hot laps on the farm.
Luckily Mama’s paranoia hadn’t set in yet and she locked the doors and told me to collect myself.
I made a teepee fort out of a duvet. No spiders could get me in there.
And then mom’s hallucinations started to hit.
Jana’s hallucinations include spiders coming out of a faucet and a giant cat jumping over the TV. And what a lesson it was. Never again will I, nor any family member, pick mushrooms from the back paddock’
We tried to watch a movie on TV with Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore called ‘Music and Lyrics’ (terrible choice, I blame the mushrooms).
“Oh look at Drew Barrymore’s hair! It’s pink and green… Ooooh, now she’s got a moustache!’
Mom was disabled. Her. Sight.
I calmly assured her that Drew Barrymore’s hair was actually blonde, but that someone who takes magic mushrooms can’t be convinced that they don’t see what they see.
And so we waited. And stared at the TV. And took calls from relatives – because the news had really spread by now. And waited. And thought for a moment if a giant cat had really jumped over the TV (spoiler alert: it hadn’t) and waited.
Finally, at 4 a.m., our eyes grew tired, our heart rate dropped, and the spiders had said goodbye to us.
We both went to bed and slept until at least noon. We were left with nothing more than a mild headache and a hilariously embarrassing story.
So that was my quiet Friday night in 2015.
And what a lesson it was. Never again will I, nor any family member, pick mushrooms from the back paddock.