ugh

One morning Chris woke up saying that he couldn't go to work. This was slightly shocking to me, as he seemed to feel OK when we went to bed, though he had been feeling a little odd the day before. So I went to work, instructing Rajendran to go home and guard the house to be sure that nobody bothered him (people of all shapes and sorts drop by the house for various and sundry purposes, some of which are mildly necessary but most of which are incredibly stupid and annoying . . . our neighbor Nickie has reduced this problem greatly by placing a large “Beware of Dog” sign on our front gate). When I got home, I could only barely tell that he was alive. He was a very sick man. He missed work again the next day, which is unheard of, and didn't eat anything but bread for a week.

At first he figured that he had food poisoning. But he also had a bad fever and it lasted way too long. We decided that it was a stomach flu. I wasn't worried because I don't get such things.

We went out to dinner with some friends. Right as the appetizers arrived on the table, I began to feel very strange. I sort of spaced out and couldn't really take part in conversation very well. When the entrees arrived, I was sort of slumped over and glassy-eyed. Chris asked me what was wrong, but I couldn't quite say. I didn't eat my dinner and made sure that Chris was prepared to pull over quickly if I asked him to. By the time I got home, I needed to curl up on the bathroom floor. For many, many hours. Now I know why people don't like to have a stomach flu.

I am not joking when I say that I have never, ever been that ill before. I genuinely wanted to die. It was almost as bad as seasickness, which as you all know, was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I threw up everything I have ever eaten. In my entire life. And I was happy to do it, because it hurt worse not to.

It was horrible. Chris blames himself. I blame him too.

I'm better now. If it ever happens again, I'm going to the Emergency Room for a morphine drip.