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My sick yesterday - potentially TMI
Dec. 27th, 2005 10:46 amI worked through some sort of stomach virus yesterday. Horrible. Horriblehorriblehorrible. It might have simply been "horrible" if I was at home while my guts were trying to make their way out of my body. Instead I was babysitting my cousin in Brooklyn. Yeah.
I knew things weren't okay upon waking up. I'd had the weirdest dream and when I opened my eyes my clothes were soaked in sweat. Then there was the rolling in my stomach. My first thought was "I shouldn't have had the potato salad" - we ate dinner at my grandmother's house the day before and she had some potato salad that had been sitting on the dining room table for Lord knows how long. Still, although my stomach was uneasy it felt more like gas than anything else so I figured it would pass one way or another before I got out to Brooklyn. Of course, my brain must have known what was really up because before leaving the house I took a plastic bag with me "just in case".
Things did not improve by the time I got to the subway. Sitting in the idling F train I seriously contemplated throwing in the towel and going back home. BUT (but) I knew my aunt was counting on me. And I kept hoping that the party in my stomach would stop.
I got to the transfer point and stood on the platform waiting for the G. By that time I was damned happy I brought the plastic bag along. I "used it", feeling utterly wretched. Okay, and here's the part that slays me (in retrospect, of course - at the time I was feeling way too green to fully comprehend it): I'm standing on a semi-crowded train platform upchucking into a plastic bag and NO ONE reacts. No one moved away and (rather typical for NYers) no one inquired as to my physical state. It was like I'd turned invisible. I cleaned myself up as best as I could and disposed of the bag and its contents in the trash (after momentarily contemplating holding on to it since I didn't have a second bag at my disposal...then sanity hit). The main thing I wanted to avoid was being "that person", the ill train rider who causes train delays and gets people swearing and wondering why the hell sick people can't just stay home (!). So I'm proud of the fact that I didn't pass out on the local.
Anyway, things didn't improve after that. I was sick on the bus to my aunts house and, sans plastic bag...you know, the bus floor suffered. That wasn't too fun. Luckily the bus driver didn't see me. Or if he did (since I was the only passenger on the bus) he, like every other NYer, simply ignored me.
What followed was 8 hours of utter agony. My aunt and her husband live in a three story brownstone and so I had to lug my cousin up and down from the bedroom (on the third floor) if I needed to get something from the kitchen (on first floor). At one point I honestly didn't think I would make it; I thought I'd try to get the kid down the stairs and pass out and then yay! evening news! When I'd have to go the restroom (with more and more frequency as the day went on) I'd have to plop him in the playpen and then happy happy fun time. I was so fatigued I'd fall asleep in the loo in a semi-dressed state and wake up embarrassed, thinking my aunt had come back to find me me sprawled on the carpet in front of the toilet. I called to ask my mom to pick me up when I was supposed to be finished because I wasn't well enough to deal with the subway ride. I did get a swig of Pepto upon leaving my aunts, and either the Pepto worked its magic or I had a 24 hour virus because I woke up this morning light-headed but with my guts staying in their place. I'm still a little queasy, but I chalk that up to slight dehydration more than anything else.
Yes. Happy fun fun indeed.
I knew things weren't okay upon waking up. I'd had the weirdest dream and when I opened my eyes my clothes were soaked in sweat. Then there was the rolling in my stomach. My first thought was "I shouldn't have had the potato salad" - we ate dinner at my grandmother's house the day before and she had some potato salad that had been sitting on the dining room table for Lord knows how long. Still, although my stomach was uneasy it felt more like gas than anything else so I figured it would pass one way or another before I got out to Brooklyn. Of course, my brain must have known what was really up because before leaving the house I took a plastic bag with me "just in case".
Things did not improve by the time I got to the subway. Sitting in the idling F train I seriously contemplated throwing in the towel and going back home. BUT (but) I knew my aunt was counting on me. And I kept hoping that the party in my stomach would stop.
I got to the transfer point and stood on the platform waiting for the G. By that time I was damned happy I brought the plastic bag along. I "used it", feeling utterly wretched. Okay, and here's the part that slays me (in retrospect, of course - at the time I was feeling way too green to fully comprehend it): I'm standing on a semi-crowded train platform upchucking into a plastic bag and NO ONE reacts. No one moved away and (rather typical for NYers) no one inquired as to my physical state. It was like I'd turned invisible. I cleaned myself up as best as I could and disposed of the bag and its contents in the trash (after momentarily contemplating holding on to it since I didn't have a second bag at my disposal...then sanity hit). The main thing I wanted to avoid was being "that person", the ill train rider who causes train delays and gets people swearing and wondering why the hell sick people can't just stay home (!). So I'm proud of the fact that I didn't pass out on the local.
Anyway, things didn't improve after that. I was sick on the bus to my aunts house and, sans plastic bag...you know, the bus floor suffered. That wasn't too fun. Luckily the bus driver didn't see me. Or if he did (since I was the only passenger on the bus) he, like every other NYer, simply ignored me.
What followed was 8 hours of utter agony. My aunt and her husband live in a three story brownstone and so I had to lug my cousin up and down from the bedroom (on the third floor) if I needed to get something from the kitchen (on first floor). At one point I honestly didn't think I would make it; I thought I'd try to get the kid down the stairs and pass out and then yay! evening news! When I'd have to go the restroom (with more and more frequency as the day went on) I'd have to plop him in the playpen and then happy happy fun time. I was so fatigued I'd fall asleep in the loo in a semi-dressed state and wake up embarrassed, thinking my aunt had come back to find me me sprawled on the carpet in front of the toilet. I called to ask my mom to pick me up when I was supposed to be finished because I wasn't well enough to deal with the subway ride. I did get a swig of Pepto upon leaving my aunts, and either the Pepto worked its magic or I had a 24 hour virus because I woke up this morning light-headed but with my guts staying in their place. I'm still a little queasy, but I chalk that up to slight dehydration more than anything else.
Yes. Happy fun fun indeed.
