I was going to take today to write something political, as I’ve been avoiding that mess so far this year. However, events of the last 24 hours have compelled me to share a little Too Much Information. So I’m going to discuss something less disgusting than the puking shitstorm in Washington. However:
The following will be dealing with a more detailed explanation of things I discussed in the prior post, namely the “steak soup” reference. I’m not going to get too colorful, and will be more clinical(ish) since I was barely awake half the time, but I will discuss things coming out of my body. You have been warned.
So yesterday, as I was waiting for the lovely awesomesauce that footed onesie PJs that was on the way, I was also concerned as I was taking regular trips to the bathroom, and producing the aforementioned soupy substance. The generic immodium finally sealed that off for the most part, but my guts were not feeling right. The only comfort was the snuggly warmth of that onesie, which wrapped me in warmnessness.
As the evening wore on, I grew worse, spending most of my time curled up in a ball. I also didn’t really eat anything all day due to that stomach problem.
It wasn’t until 7 that we rolled out to grab things at the dollar store, and some Wendy’s to eat (as I wan’t in any shape to cook. Again, I reverted to the fetal position, drifting in and out of sleep all evening. Got William headed to bed a little after 9, and Lauren showered and headed to bed some time after 10 (I was mostly asleep at this point).
Sometime between then and midnight (I’m thinking 10:30, but you’ll understand why I’m really not sure in a moment), I woke up enough to realize I needed to get to bed for the 5:45 school day start. I went to brush teeth, and felt nauseous, and more concerning, dizzy as hell. I rushed through brushing, stumbling, turning off lights as I went, grabbing my phone. Got to the bedroom. Shit, had laundry scattered all over the bed that needed sorted and put away. Shoved it aside. In the span of the last minute, I suddenly started a soaking sweat. And I was trapped in that onesie. I started peeling desperately, freeing myself of that nightmare hell garment from hell. I ended up curled up a little while there. Eventually, I managed to stop the spinning and reeling, got up, found a basket, and emptied my bed and crawled in, hoping the sweet release of sleep (or death) would take me.
That lasted until a little after midnight, when my stomach reached new gurgling heights. I proceeded to the bathroom and sat down, feeling sick, but gratified that what was coming out was no longer soup. That relief lasted only until I had to spin around and empty the contents of my stomach. Needless to say, my aim was slightly off. After a minute or so, and during the cleanup and showering process, I identified stuff from over 24 hours prior in the vomit. That explains why I increasingly felt like shit all day and wasn’t that hungry.
The next 5 1/2 hours were a matter of drifting in and out, hearing the rain/sleet/ice rattling on the windows and through the trees, alternately freezing and sweating like a rapist, and generally regretting life itself.
Sweet release from laying there suffering came at 5:45, as I rose to face the day. I pulled enough clothes on to be able to get William moving, then checked my phone. 2-hour delays for all. I set my alarm, then laid down.
A minute later, Im hurling into the bathroom sink. This time, I get to dry heave (yay?) and am seeing things even older than the steak and shrooms of Sunday night. What the actual fuck? Thankfully, my aim was better this time.
I crawl back to bed, wake up, get William started (as I have an hour to get him showered, then get myself showered, then get working). After he makes his way out of the shower, I get notification of cancellation. Joy. By this point, I’m so fried it’s not even funny. Unless you like seeing me suffer. In that case, you should be laughing your ass off.
At least I didn’t shit myself.
On the plus, it looks like I lost about 10 pounds since the last time I weighed myself. Still not going with the bullimia diet.
So I’m working now, and between the lack of sleep and my guts still hurting, as well as 2 kids with the day off, today is bound to have some suck.
Oh well, at least I can get on twitter and divert my attention from the misery.
*******one minute later, political stories filling the screen*******