I had no warning. It got me on Friday morning, absolutely tormented me all of Friday night, and beat me to a pulp all over again Saturday morning. The Stomach Flu. (They should rename it This Won't Kill You, You Just Have to Be Terribly Miserable for 2 days). But? Ya. I guess Stomach Flu is a bit easier to say.
The morning of my sisters' wedding I thought about going to the E.R. to see if I had been poisoned..... no really..... I couldn't find any other explaination as to why it was so painful! That very afternoon, I was to drive over to my younger sister's house, don her with beautiful hair and makeup and tell her (in a chipper high pitched squeal) just how GORGEOUS she looks on her wedding day.
It didn't work out (quite) that way. I made it to her house. Pale faced. Hunched over like a 98 year old women. Hardly able to walk, drive, talk, breathe, or MOVE with out some sort of nausea or body pain.
I sucked it up, though. I mean! I just dove right into the hair curling, "That looks so pretty!!!!" primping and all. And ya know what?!?! I started feeling better. Sure did. 30 minutes into the spiraling of her long (LONG) black (STRAIGHT) hair, my misery went on a little mini-vacation.
And my sister- YA- she totally looked beautiful. She didn't need me to do anything with her hair or her makeup to help her along her way to gorgeous-ness, she's already naturally beautiful- I was just there to spark up a level of confidence so she needn't question herself.
And? After I mosied my way back home- MISERY came back in full swing. I was slow slipping lemon water as to not barf in the floor board before I made it into the house.
The wedding was great. It was just a small gathering of the immediate family; something I'll have to write about at a later date to give the wedding it's full glory. I was upright, and attentive as "The Photographer" taking a mere 2 rolls of 35 mm film as those around me shot umpteen digital photos and videos. (I can't wait to see all of those pictures!)
We got home later on that night, watched a little movie or something, and I took a sleeping pill. That's how bad my body hurt. My discomfort was severe. There wasn't an option. In 3 years, I think that must've been my 5th sleeping pill. Ya. It was that bad!
I woke up Sunday morning feeling a TRILLION times better. My husband let me snooze- uninterrupted. Totally appreciative of that. OH! Speaking of shout-outs- I gotta say that I am so thankful that Joshua took it upon himself to be my "caregiver" over the weekend. My first violent barf wasn't pretty. (IS barf ever pretty?) No- I mean- it wasn't contained. I "missed". I asked Joshua to come up to the bathroom with a washcloth and cleaning spray as I crawled into the shower to clean myself up.
I was just sitting there, ready to DIE, in the shower. And as the water rinsed me off, keeping me awake, he walks in with a question- "Do you want me to clean this up for you, or are you going to do it?"
That's his man-talk for "Hey honey- don't worry about cleaning it up. I'll do it for you."
My eyes perked up as best as they could "If you don't care to clean that up- I would really appreciate it." Big sigh. "Thank you!!!!" I was so relieved that he was going to take care of that for me!! It's possible we'd have had to quarantine the bathroom from the girls had he not; because I don't think I'd have had the stamina to do it.
In the "middle of the night" he once again came to the rescue. I tried my best to make it in time- but violence is not patient- and that puke was like Linda Blair evil. Joshua followed me into my misery- I made my pleas for God to just go ahead and "KILL ME NOW" as I heaved and hurled, and crawled back into the shower to clean myself up. (I didn't necessarily need a shower, but I felt like I did.). And I cried "I'm so sorry.... I missed again.... I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He didn't even need to use his "man talk" when he said "Don't say your sorry. It's ok. I got it." Very sweet.
And he cleaned this weekend. Real cleaning. Like? He wiped down our dining room baseboards. And- did all this "stuff". I can't really detail it all- but there was a lot of "putting stuff where it belongs" and cleaning spray involved in his clean up. I think he had a little bit of "Mommy Mode" in him because he was having to take care of the girls, and me, and cook, AND it was all so frustrating to do in a cluttered-up messy house. So? He tackled it.....er.... what he could of it. There was a lot to do. Still is.
And then, he cleaned up PUKE again......after our 2 year old- suddenly- with out warning- upchucked all over me....and our living room floor.
So? This weekend I got a little beat up. My husband kinda did, too.
I'm hoping the Stomach Flu disappears. Forever!