October 13, 2005
I have a Warrant for your Bitching
Wow. It's been a while since I've been in here. This place could use a remodel. lol
Well, for those of you who have followed the link here from my blog, you must be curious about my hit-and-run incident with Mr. Reaper on Tuesday. Go you. It's not really so gory as it is gross, but believe me, it was no fun to be there. If you get queazy easily or can't handle talk about puke, I advise you to move on now.
Can't say I didn't warn ya.
Monday was typical - nothing particularly interesting going on. I went to bed around midnight, tired and ready to crash but otherwise feeling fine. Around 4:30 in the morning, I was literally awakened by my own vomiting. It seems I had vomited into my mouth and then inhaled it - a LOT of it. I was literally drowning. I bolted up, panicking because I couldn't breathe. I gagged and choked, and coughed up huge amounts of it (fortunately mostly in the toilet). It was excrutiating and felt like forever before I could draw a breath. I coughed violently for about an hour, much of that sitting on the edge of the bed. Chris was completely oblivious - didn't even wake up. The man could sleep through a tornado.
I digress. Sorry.
Of course, after this fresh hell, my windpipe, esophagus, everything was burned by the acid. I fell back into bed, coughing weakly and feeling the burn. Of course, I got back to sleep about the time the alarm went off. I tossed about for a while, then realized it was time to haul it into the bathroom again. I heaved again (and again, and again...)...it was like nothing I'd eaten for the last two days had moved past my stomach. Oh, and burn...damn, it burnt. fuck.
By this time, I had a fever and was sweating like crazy. I washed my face and went back to bed. My whole body ached like I'd been run over. I told Chris I was sick and he had to take D to school. After much grumbling, he determined that there was no choice in the matter. I fell in and out but couldn't really sleep because everything hurt so bad. It was hell.
One thing I feel compelled to point out here is the fact that I NEVER puke. I just don't. If I get really drunk, I'll pass out before I puke. In the 12 years that Chris and I have known each other, he has seen me vomit twice. This makes three times. ...so this was, to say the least, quite alarming.
Despite how horribly ill I was, Chris did not come home for lunch or even so much as call to check on me or to see if I needed anything (...and I did - like THERAFLU!). How disappointing. Shows how I rate, I guess. Oh, and he went directly from work, picked up D and took him to his mom's. They didn't come home until 9:00, 14 hours later.
I digress again. Sheesh.
I was able to get more sleep the next night after finally getting some medecine in me. I'm keeping that shit on hand now, damn it. The next day, feeling weak and hurting like hell inside and out, I laid on the couch & watched the horrors of daytime TV. Everything I ate made my stomach hurt like hell, and even the 7-up my father-in-law brought me hurt. Late that night, I was finally able to hold down some pudding and chicken noodle soup.
This morning, I woke up feeling amazingly well. So, there ya go - how I nearly drowned in my own vomit. Perhaps I should update the 100 things about me page with that little tidbit. lol
By the way, I am completely amazed that I can laugh about it this soon. I guess, sometimes, you just have to laugh to keep from crying.
Comments-[ comments.]
Well, for those of you who have followed the link here from my blog, you must be curious about my hit-and-run incident with Mr. Reaper on Tuesday. Go you. It's not really so gory as it is gross, but believe me, it was no fun to be there. If you get queazy easily or can't handle talk about puke, I advise you to move on now.
Can't say I didn't warn ya.
Monday was typical - nothing particularly interesting going on. I went to bed around midnight, tired and ready to crash but otherwise feeling fine. Around 4:30 in the morning, I was literally awakened by my own vomiting. It seems I had vomited into my mouth and then inhaled it - a LOT of it. I was literally drowning. I bolted up, panicking because I couldn't breathe. I gagged and choked, and coughed up huge amounts of it (fortunately mostly in the toilet). It was excrutiating and felt like forever before I could draw a breath. I coughed violently for about an hour, much of that sitting on the edge of the bed. Chris was completely oblivious - didn't even wake up. The man could sleep through a tornado.
I digress. Sorry.
Of course, after this fresh hell, my windpipe, esophagus, everything was burned by the acid. I fell back into bed, coughing weakly and feeling the burn. Of course, I got back to sleep about the time the alarm went off. I tossed about for a while, then realized it was time to haul it into the bathroom again. I heaved again (and again, and again...)...it was like nothing I'd eaten for the last two days had moved past my stomach. Oh, and burn...damn, it burnt. fuck.
By this time, I had a fever and was sweating like crazy. I washed my face and went back to bed. My whole body ached like I'd been run over. I told Chris I was sick and he had to take D to school. After much grumbling, he determined that there was no choice in the matter. I fell in and out but couldn't really sleep because everything hurt so bad. It was hell.
One thing I feel compelled to point out here is the fact that I NEVER puke. I just don't. If I get really drunk, I'll pass out before I puke. In the 12 years that Chris and I have known each other, he has seen me vomit twice. This makes three times. ...so this was, to say the least, quite alarming.
Despite how horribly ill I was, Chris did not come home for lunch or even so much as call to check on me or to see if I needed anything (...and I did - like THERAFLU!). How disappointing. Shows how I rate, I guess. Oh, and he went directly from work, picked up D and took him to his mom's. They didn't come home until 9:00, 14 hours later.
I digress again. Sheesh.
I was able to get more sleep the next night after finally getting some medecine in me. I'm keeping that shit on hand now, damn it. The next day, feeling weak and hurting like hell inside and out, I laid on the couch & watched the horrors of daytime TV. Everything I ate made my stomach hurt like hell, and even the 7-up my father-in-law brought me hurt. Late that night, I was finally able to hold down some pudding and chicken noodle soup.
This morning, I woke up feeling amazingly well. So, there ya go - how I nearly drowned in my own vomit. Perhaps I should update the 100 things about me page with that little tidbit. lol
By the way, I am completely amazed that I can laugh about it this soon. I guess, sometimes, you just have to laugh to keep from crying.
