I’ve been out of commission since the Monday after Mother’s Day. I woke up and wasn’t hungry. It wasn’t just that I wasn’t hungry it was that I didn’t want to eat. I didn’t feel bad or anything. I ate two bites of cereal and put my spoon down. I am not sure you understand. That doesn’t happen to me. Even if I am not hungry, I finish everything on my plate. We were taught that as kids. The reasoning was twofold. 1. Not really a reason, it was just something you did. 2. If you didn’t eat it and eat it fast it would be eaten soon by someone else. But this particular morning I couldn’t.
Master P and I went to get coffee. Drank it and was fine. Came home and all of the sudden I was so hungry (or so I thought) I was nauseous. I could barely get through finishing feeding him his bottle. I scrambled two eggs and started eating them. I started to sweat and then I wanted to vomit. Blah. I couldn’t shake the feeling. But always with reason 1 in the back of my head I took a break and went back to the eggs. Gross, I know. I barely choked them down.
I had to get W from school but at this point I felt like laying on the bathroom floor with a bucket by my head. I took a Mardi Gras cup with me to pick him up in case I couldn’t make it home. And the day went quickly downhill.
By 3pm I couldn’t move. I was lying on the floor with P begging to die. Called J to ask if he could come home early. I promised him he could work all he wanted the rest of the week. No questions asked. He seemed exasperated but said he would. 3:22pm I couldn’t take the floor any longer. I picked Master P up to go upstairs and then I had to make a crucial decision. Do I vomit in the powder room while holding him or try to make it to my bedroom. I took off running, made it to our bed where lovingly placed him (or rather kind of quickly yet safely chucked him) and made it to the bathroom. Whew. Called J. He was on his way home. He said he was at Jackson ave. I hung up the phone and cried. Not because I was thankful he was coming (which I was) but because I didn’t think I had it in me to wait the 5 minutes more that it would take him to get home.
From then on I threw up 5 more times. Mostly dry heaving.
8:15 we called the doctor for something to STOP IT!!!!
TMI I know but he gave me a suppository. First time I ever gave one to myself. I couldn’t very well ask J to do it and well, he didn’t offer.
It was my savior. It didn’t cure the nausea but I at least slept a bit. The rest of the week was up and down. One minute I would feel ok, the next I was back in hell. The dr. thought it was food poisoning. So on top of being sick I was in a deep depression thinking I could never go to Superior Grill again. It was the only thing I ate besides beignets at 11am Sunday morning. My life as I know it would have been over. No more SG Margaritas!? No more Superior platter?! I couldn’t imagine and still can’t. But I am thinking that it was actually a stomach bug since it lasted a whole week. And boy do I feel skinny!
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