Thar She Blows (not in the good way)

Yikes. I am sick. Woke up Sunday morning at about 6:00am and just made it in time to pray to the ceramic god.

I guess I should start at the beginning, which is always an appropriate place to start.

Had all the kids over thanksgiving. Alison and Ella were sweethearts, though Ella had been sick the day before and was just getting back to speed. Didn’t think much of it, because kids get sick. Particularly school kids. All was well Thursday, but then Saturday, Alison was acting sluggish, and spent a couple hours in the bathroom with her head where only a bottom should rest. I held her hair back, wiped her mouth, and stroked her back. All you can do in that situation, I’m afraid.

Ali was feeling badly Friday night, so I called Cindy, and she came and picked her up, let her sleep in her mom’s bed for the night, which I’m sure made Ali feel better.

Saturday morning, Ali was unceremoniously dropped off. Not real sure why a phone call would have been hard, but that’s a whole different story.

Saturday evening, Dani washed everything from our bedroom, Lysol’d the house, and washed all the cups and glasses. Trying to break the cycle of sick.

Didn’t work. Valiant effort, but I must have already gotten it, cause Sunday morning, about 6:00am, I was in the bathroom, facing the wrong direction. Ugh. I wish I could say “Puke Free, since ‘93” but that simply aint even close to being the case. Still, puking from being sick, I can’t remember the last time I did that. Well, now I can.

The trouble with this sickness is that it was liquid coming fast and furious from both ends. Occasionally at the same time. Kholer hasn’t yet invented a porcelain fixture to accommodate that sort of action. I began to sit in the hall bathroom, and kneel in my bathroom, so as to not have to kneel where I just sat. That would be bad. I was successful for a while, though I was wearing out a path in the carpet with my bare feet scurrying back and forth.

There were hour long pauses in the action, where I could lay on the bed or the couch and moan from the pain of stomach cramps, sore throat, and general malaise. I felt drained. Like I had been placed on a giant orange juicer and squeezed by the hands of Goliath. From eyewitness accounts, I was as pale as great Caesar’s ghost, and clammy like New England Chowder.

After many hours of this, repeated over and over, I felt and looked worse. I needed help. I asked Dani to take me to the hospital so I could get some IV fluids. All during this time I tries Juice, Ginger Ale, Water, by the glass down to the teaspoonful. Every bit came back up with the force of a firehose. (I really felt compelled to say Mount Vesuvius right there, but I’m glad I didn’t.) I wanted to drink anything and everything in as massive a quantity as the world contained. I wanted Coke over ice, I wanted Mountain Dew in a bottle, Gatorade , water, anything, everything, right now. But I couldn’t even keep down a dropper of room temperature water. I was dehydrated and my body and mind began to suffer for it.

While attentive and sweet up to this point, when I mentioned I wanted medical attention, Dani snapped into a next higher gear I hadn’t seen before. In the four years we have been in each other’s company, she has seen me hung over, and with a cold. Not exactly extreme maladies. I have accompanied her to the hospital several times, from supposed strokes that were severe opthamalic migraines, to kidney stones, to new human life-forms emitting from her belly. It was her turn to take care of ME, and she relished the chance.

She was attentive, sweet, caring and selfless the whole time while I took IV fluids, anti-nausea meds, and a realm of other brightly colored bags of stuff. I think something was an anti-acid med since I had been puking battery acid for the better part of the last 4 hours. Not sure. She was right there by my side, holding my hand. The only negative thing Dani had to say the whole time was making fun of me for taking the needle with difficulty, and I probably actually deserved it, since I did jump and squirm like they were putting a knitting needle in my urethra. (it did feel bad, though.) So, all in all, Dani gets a 101 out of 100. Highest score ever.

After a couple hours of two bags of fluids, and something or another that actually allowed me to get a short nap, they kicked me to the literal curb. Dani drove me home, and about 3/4ths of the way there, I puked again. Wonderful. So much for hospital work “fixing” me. I felt as disoriented, dizzy, and exhausted as ever. I came home, and literally fell asleep.

I woke up several hours later, thirsty as ever. But, my stomach was hardly any better, so I only dared try a sip of water. It stayed down, and I fell back asleep.

Hours and hours passed, sleeping, taking sips of water, occasional visits to the bathroom for more diarrhea, once in a while downstairs for a couple minutes of TV or saying hello to the family.

Monday night I ate most of a bowl of Vegetable soup, (Campbell’s Old Fashioned is the only soup in the world for me. Well, that and Olive Garden’s Pasta Figoile.) and a half a bottle of grape Frost Gatorade.

So, now here it is Tuesday afternoon. I have slept more than been awake. I drank two or three bottles of water, and can now walk down then back up the stairs in one time. I need to lay down if I do much more than that, but this is progress, though slow.

I will go back to work on Wednesday, hopefully stronger than I feel today. Good thing I don’t actually lift or carry anything for my job. I simply push a mouse and tap a keyboard. Even a sickly weakling can do that, right?

Dani is not feeling well. I fear it is her turn to go through this. I hope it isn’t as severe with her. But if it is, I will be right there by her side, holding her hand.