I was sick last week. I know, I’m quite certain you are as surprised as I was. I don’t tend to get sick, and I’m not saying that in the irritating way of those people who really do have the constitution of an ox and don’t even get headcolds. Apart from fairly constant sinus issues and the occasional cold my health is what I would term robust. So when I felt queasy cleaning up Jasper’s vomit that he had presented over the entire bathroom floor (sure the bathroom is not big but still, vomit.) I just put it down to the curious maternal duty that is cleaning up someone else’s chuck.
But then I had a sip of water to wash down the tablets to make my thyroid try and function (come on buddy, you can do it) and my whole stomach seized. I knew I was in trouble. I got lunches made for those going to school and got them off to school. It was walking in from the car where my whole body went into some sort of slow-motion collapse. I could feel the temperature descend and my whole body felt like lead. This wasn’t going to be pretty. You see, I am nothing if not committed, so if I’m going to vomit I.am.going.to.vomit.
Poor Jasper and I just lay in my bed shivering then sweating, occasionally tearing to the bathroom. I don’t need to go into details like
hot-stinky-water-shooting-from-my-arse or wetting-my-pants-every-time-I-vomitted but needless to say it was not pleasant for anyone involved. Blessedly the spewing ended after about 24 hours but the next 24 were filled with rainbows and unicorns due to hallucinatory dreams from a raging temperature and extreme lethargy.
I dreamt my friend and her mum, then on a cruise from hell which involved the ice machine breaking, the lifts not working, not enough shore boats working (which double as life boats so you know, alarming) and then one of the engines packing it in. Just a side note, the idea of no ice is what disturbs me most about that reality. See also: not sane. Anyway, I dreamt that her mum was so convinced there was going to be a gastro outbreak on the ship (probably just hours away if you take it all into account) so started secretly stockpiling toilet paper rolls from Day 1. By the end of the trip, with gastro avoided, the cleaner opened the cupboard to be thrown back by a collapsing wall of dunny rolls.
Then there was the one where I ate rotting road kill off the Wakehurst Parkway. Why I would dream something so macabre when I couldn’t even stomach water is, I hope, indicative of how febrile I was?
Not satisfied with the general unwellness I got a case of the sads, feeling I would never recover and all was hopeless with the world. We can be safely reassured by the fact two days later I was eating blue cheese so that penchant for melodrama was dealt with nicely.