Recuperating

I was sick yesterday.

Sick…sick…sick.

Not too sick, but sick enough.

Enough that I spent most of the daytime hours in bed, moaning…

”I’m sick….”

But that was a pretty useless exercise since I was home alone for most of that time.

I even “trewup” once since I didn’t want to waste the opportunity.

I mean what’s the good of being sick without at least one good “trowup”

I did resist for a while though, not having participated in such an undignified event for quite some time.

I kept thinking about all those hard earned “non-trowup” days in the bank going to seed with one simple heave.

All of it down the toilet, so to speak.

But my stomach had started taking on the shape of Sigourney Weaver's in “Alien”.

So I relented…and let it go.

Sorry, is this too graphic for you?

I’m not a real good judge about this stuff.  Mostly because I just don’t get sick very often.  I’m thinking it was some time in the 90’s when I last had to endure all this.

I’m not even sure how I contracted this little bug since I don’t lead the most social of existences, and when I do venture out, the bubble suit usually keeps me pretty protected from other people’s filthy germs.

So who knows?

It’s just as well I was home alone for most of the day because Z doesn’t like it when I’m sick.

Even though she’s a nurse and deals with sick people all the time, I’m apparently not allowed. So I try to stay healthy.

Z also doesn’t like it when I “trowup” because she says it’s reminiscent of Mt. Vesuvius erupting. And she’s right. I’m not a good “trow-er-upper”.  Strange substances of all shapes and sizes have been known to spew from my every orifice, including my navel.

So it’s not pretty.

No one wants to see that…. not even a nurse.

But I must be out of practice because this was rather mild by comparison.

And I did feel somewhat better once the little alien guy was expelled.

Also, I don’t know what twisted part of human nature contributes to this behavior, but why is it that, as disgusting as the “trowing up” part is—even as we’re shoving the lining of our stomachs back down our throats—why is it that we need to look into the bowl to analyze the contents like some sort of CSI tech.


"Oh...that's where my old chap stick went!"

Talk about aberrant behavior.

I mean some things, like a bad relationship, are just not meant to be revisited once you say goodbye.

But still we look.

If we’re lucky we take a quick glance and turn away, but if we’re not, we end up saying, “What the hell is that?”

You don’t want to be saying, “What the hell is that?”

Not really….

So I crawled back to bed and called Z to tell her the big news.  You can't let something this big go by without getting some credit.  Plus I was hoping it would get me out of doing the dishes later.

Hoping….

Of course Z was all concerned and wanted to know if I needed her to come home, or send over the hazmat team because of, you know, the Mt. Vesuvius thing.

I told her no…I didn’t think so. She should probably continue administering internal defibrillation to the patient she was working on when I interrupted her with my call.

But I did ask her to pick up some lemon ice and ginger ale…when she got a chance.

She said she would try to remember once she was done saving lives.

I told her I would send a text…if I had the strength.

But I’m happy to say I’m feeling much better now…thanks for asking.

I’ve been up for about 4 hours and while I’m starting to fade, a little bit, I’m way ahead of yesterday.

The ironic part to all of this is I’ve gone years without seeing, or having to see a doctor, or even catching a cold, common or otherwise. However, I recently relented and listened to all those purveyors of doom and gloom who are always telling me I'm of the age where it’s important to see a doctor regularly, in case you misplace an organ or something. So I had made an appointment to get a physical next week…on Valentine’s Day, actually, because I just wanted to make it special.  

So now, when the doc asks how I’ve been, I can’t say I’ve been illness free for the last 40 years; now I have to say, “Well, other than the near death experience I had last week…pretty good.”

In the end though, I have to say, there is some value to these mild illnesses.  Like everything else, how would we know the light without the dark? Even if it is just a shade dimmer than normal.

Feeling well today seems so much better than feeling well two days ago.

Plus I was able to spend the whole day sleeping without feeling guilty.

And I did get out of doing the dishes.

But maybe I was a little sicker than I thought.  When I was pouring my coffee this morning, I noticed  that Z just bought a new rolling suitcase and a ticket to Bermuda…for one.

Hmmmmm….maybe I better go clean up those dirty dishes…..