Don’t read this:
Last Thursday The Max was yakking and dry heaving into our family’s designated ‘puke bowl’ for a good 12-16 hours. On Friday he was feeling better but I was queasy so I stayed home afraid I was going to develop the same symptoms at my job. It was snowing like crazy on Friday, and the last thing I wanted was to be cooped up in my car for thirty-five miles while barfing. But, I was fine. The weekend treated me well until Sunday night I was on a phone call and mentioned how I thought I might vomit. The other person on the call mentioned several times when they had thrown up and dry heaved and all that puke talk did it for me. I lost my can of Campbell’s chicken soup and the handful of hot tamales I’d eaten for dinner.
Went to work on Monday feeling OK. I thought I musta gotten lucky and avoided the full on stomach flu. ‘Bout four o’clock in the afternoon every ounce of fluid in my body exited me. Being sick is never pleasant, but I was in the midst of one of those illnesses you seem to outgrow when you are 12. By ten o’clock last night there was nothing left inside of me. I bought a scale last weekend for the purpose of weighing moving boxes so I had recently weighed myself. I was down seven pounds. That’s gross.
So, I was then at the point where my tounge was begging for drops of water. I spent until about three in the morning with a stop watch set to three minutes. At the end of each three minute term I allowed myself a sip of water, any more than that would not sit right in my stomach. There were a couple times I just couldn’t stand it and gulped down a swallow of H2O only to have it be rejected shortly after.
I think I am on the upswing. My stomach is much better, though my body feels like somebody locked me in a clothes dryer all night. I really want some coffee for this headache. But, I got to watch The Price is Right today.
There’s not many things more repulsive than hearing someone describe their illnesses, you’re welcome.