Monday, November 06, 2006

Not so good

Yesterday, Kevin and I worked on getting up all the leaves that have fallen lately on the yard. Kev did some raking, & I ran the lawn tractor with the bagger attached. Some of the leaves had gotten so thick, that I had to drive very, very slowly... and it wasn’t a very windy day, out either... so after about 5 hours of driving our Cub Cadet, turns out I inhaled far too much of the exhaust fumes.

Have you ever been so sick that you have no control over your bodily functions? This is what a dose of carbon monoxide poisoning will do to you. I recommend the experience to no one.

Think of having a really bad case of the ‘flu, and you’re nowhere near close. Think of the worse hangover you’ve every had... not even close. And I once had a hangover that lasted about a week, from which I didn’t drink tequila for about 15 years... Not even close.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get truly sick until we were at the restaurant yesterday evening, where we went for Sammy’s birthday. I became far too familiar with a toilet there... never thought I would find myself sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall in a restaurant toilet, praying for relief.

This was my evening and through out the night.... warning: graphic details follow that may not be suitable for all readers...

You’re vomiting into a bucket because you have to sit on the toilet while diarrhea streams out of you like your large and small intestines are fighting each other to see who can liquefy and exit first. And anything you have in you stomach was thrown up in the previous 4 or 5 episodes, so whatever your body is trying to throw up now is probably also made of internal organs. Or feels that way. Your mind knows there is nothing to throw up, but your body has decided to choke you anyway. And your head is aching so severely that the pain encompasses your entire body. When finally there is a lull, it is all you can do to wipe the vomit from your face and wipe your ass before falling to the bathroom floor, hugging the floor like it is your life raft on a dark, angry ocean of pain. You’re aching and hot with fever, but your body is covered in a cold, clammy sweat that allows all the lint and hair on the bathroom floor to stay with you as you struggle to your feet. Your head is aching so badly that your sense of balance is altered, so you need help back to the bed.

Repeat often throughout the long, long night.

Thank God for my husband, who took care of me and saw me in a way that only 23 years of marriage makes ok.

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