Blaaaarrrrrhh

If you've been following my Twitter feed, you know I've been sick.  Tummy flu, or at least something with a powerful element of nausea.  I spent most of Sunday lying down, feeling exhausted, and then on Monday morning at 12:30 am, the event I had been dreading finally came to pass: I upchucked for the first time since 1997.  I guess it's like riding a bike; once you've done it once, you can go back to it at anytime without having practiced.  Although in most other ways, it's not much like riding a bike at all.

The worst part wasn't the actual barfing, although that was unpleasant.  The worst part was the horrible, unrelenting dizziness that had the whole room spinning around me  if I so much as moved my head an inch in any direction.  For four long hours, I stayed as still as possible, fearing that if I stood up I would pass out and break my face on the floor.  I would have about five minutes break from the dizziness right after each barf attack, and then it was back into a nightmare of vertigo.  It was a long, long night.

My loving husband kept a vigil with me, bringing me chamomile tea (which I promptly upchucked) and other necessities.  Around 4:00 am when he started nodding off, I encouraged him to go to bed, seeing as I was starting to feel marginally better.  Instead, he rolled himself up in his duvet on the floor next to me, preferring to stay close in case I needed him.  I can't tell you how grateful I was to have him there.  I can't imagine anything lonelier than having to weather a stomach flu without anyone there to help.

The next morning, my body was still keyed up on adrenaline, and I knew I had a brief window of energy to fetch supplies for my recuperation.  I grabbed my granny buggy and took a walk to the supermarket, where I bought a selection of baby food in jars, plain cereal, plain crackers, and juice.  That's been my lot ever since.

I'm on the mend, but I've a ways to go yet before I'm well.  I'm exhausted, and still a bit feverish.  And that is my sad story for today.