Friday, April 3, 2009

And (somehow) the world keeps turning...

Yesterday I thought I was dying.

It started at 12:45am, to be precise. I woke up knowing I was going to barf. I will spare you all the gory details that involve the broccoli I had for dinner, but suffice it to say I barfed my guts out and was basically up every 45 minutes after that (except for the two hours between 3:45 and 5:45 when I slept on the floor in the hallway).

I can't remember the last time I was so sick to my stomach. It was brutal and disgusting. Usually throwing up makes me cry because it feels so gross but this time I did not cry very much only because I didn't have the energy and also crying sort of requires use of the abdominal muscles and my stomach was killing me.

I felt a little bit of relief each time I spewed so when I woke up at 7am and brushed my teeth, I figured the worst was over. I got a can of ginger ale and dragged my weak and shaky body to the couch. I also brought a barf bowl because you just never know. Sure enough, even though I was so freaking thirsty, my body suddenly decided that it hated ginger ale and there I was, unable to make it to the bathroom, hanging off the side of the couch and then slipping down onto the floor on my hands and knees barfing my guts out into the barf bowl.

Which I then had to go rinse out.
And which was tinged a certain color I will not mention (DAMN YOU BROCCOLI!!!).

It was horrifying. So I decided that if my body was on strike, I would go on strike. I would consume absolutely nothing because I DID. NOT. WANT. TO. BARF. AGAIN.

Meanwhile I am freezing and I finally dig out the thermometer and realize I'm running a fever of 100.1 and I have a raging headache that I thought was lack of caffeine but is quite possibly my brain imploding and my body aches all over and I am freaking miserable.

Of course now that my pity-party was in full swing, I had to invite some guests. So I called my mom and texted some friends so that they would sympathy text me back.

I am obviously slightly needy when I am sick. I think this is my mom's fault because she was a very good and attentive nurse when I was sick and she would bring soup and crackers to me in bed on my awesome Cabbage Patch Kid tray and sometimes she would even hook up the 4" black and white TV in my room and read books or play Barbies (I was uninterested in Barbies for the most part but when I was sick I sometimes felt like playing with them) and she would generally make a big deal over me and touch my forehead a lot and THIS IS THE KIND OF CARE I HAVE COME TO EXPECT. This is the kind of care I provide for D when he is sick. Well, not so much the Barbies. Judging by the kind of care D provides for ME, his childhood caregivers must have locked him in the basement and told him to get over it when he was a sick little kid.

Or, as he claims, teaching responsibilities, scheduling summer school teachers, planning a field trip event, rescheduling baseball games, and dealing with angry parents prevents one from texting/calling one's dying wife as often as she would like. (i.e. every 30-45 minutes. Which was at least how often I texted him to let him know I was dying. I was miserable. Cooper is hogging the couch. My fever had gone up. My fever had gone down. The dogs wanted to go out. I was thirsty. My head hurt. My whole body hurts. I hate the show Charmed but cannot find the remote control. Oh, Cooper was lying on it.) To his credit, he did hurry home from practice, fuss over me, and THEN clean the pukey bathroom and change the sheets. So I guess I will not hold an absence of text-message replies against him.

I refused to eat or drink anything but tiny sips of water until David got home at which time he convinced me to drink a little bit of ginger ale, eat some oyster crackers (God Bless oyster crackers, I think they saved my life), and take 2 tylenol. I was totally convinced it was all going to come back up, but by this time it was 5pm and my body decided to give me a break. So instead I fell asleep with my head on David's lap and woke up at 7:30 feeling like a whole new person. A weak and tired and cranky person, but still, much better now that the awful fever and body aches were gone.

This morning I feel... pretty good. I am drinking coffee (hallelujah!) and I ate a piece of toast. So things are looking good. I am definitely not moving at full speed but I am still planning to head for Memphis tonight and hope that I will be back in action for the Redbirds game tomorrow. I won't be eating any broccoli for a while, though.

P.S. If you would like to be on the guest list for my next pity party, please let me know. I will be happy to include you but am hoping it won't occur for a long, long time.

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