anything you can do
Er pupo has lost his title in the World spew weight-for-volume championship. Beaten by his very own mam, no less.
I woke around 2am Thursday with that telltale bellyache that you just know is going somewhere but you can't help hoping if you go back to sleep it will disappear on its own. It doesn't. I soon found myself with one end on the loo and another over a basin as my body purged itself of everything I had eaten in 2007.
An hour later, my body discovered some left over Christmas dinner, and felt the need to fire that out too.
Another hour later and my body had searched deeper recesses to find a light breakfast from 1995. By this point, even water I was drinking was coming straight out again. Hubby, who admittedly has not been in great health either and who is knackered from both that and his own sick son, was sympathetic enough to call a cab to get rid of me. Even in my pitiful state at 4am I could see through the pretext of "you need to go to hospital" when the truth was "you need to pee off and let me get some sleep." (The clue was: "Is it possible for you to vomit more quietly? You will scare the neighbours."
A+E must have taken me for a drug addict on arrival, but soon had me on a drip where I stayed till lunchtime. My blood pressure had dropped to that of a sunbasking lizard in Tunisia, at a nearly-dead 91 over 47. Resting. Our attempts to take it standing up were aborted; the first to allow me vomit; the second because I fainted.
Yesterday I was slightly better and at least didn't vomit, but I still can't really eat. This morning, I woke at 5am with a hint of the nausea, which is why I am now here instead of sleeping to prepare myself for another weary day of sickboy. (Bowt time he got better as well).
My one silver strand of hope was that this year would actually start to improve is that I got my mac back, and on this I send you my greetings. That hope was quickly dashed when my dad phoned a couple of hours later to tell me that my mum had been in hospital since Wednesday with a fierce viral chest thing that wouldn't clear up. She's had it since Christmas, but now it has got really bad and she just can't shake it.
So, if anyone else would like to join me on 18 Feb to celebrate chinese new year, let me know. I'm done 2007 already.
Now back to bed for about 20 seconds of sleep till er pupo decides to join us.
I woke around 2am Thursday with that telltale bellyache that you just know is going somewhere but you can't help hoping if you go back to sleep it will disappear on its own. It doesn't. I soon found myself with one end on the loo and another over a basin as my body purged itself of everything I had eaten in 2007.
An hour later, my body discovered some left over Christmas dinner, and felt the need to fire that out too.
Another hour later and my body had searched deeper recesses to find a light breakfast from 1995. By this point, even water I was drinking was coming straight out again. Hubby, who admittedly has not been in great health either and who is knackered from both that and his own sick son, was sympathetic enough to call a cab to get rid of me. Even in my pitiful state at 4am I could see through the pretext of "you need to go to hospital" when the truth was "you need to pee off and let me get some sleep." (The clue was: "Is it possible for you to vomit more quietly? You will scare the neighbours."
A+E must have taken me for a drug addict on arrival, but soon had me on a drip where I stayed till lunchtime. My blood pressure had dropped to that of a sunbasking lizard in Tunisia, at a nearly-dead 91 over 47. Resting. Our attempts to take it standing up were aborted; the first to allow me vomit; the second because I fainted.
Yesterday I was slightly better and at least didn't vomit, but I still can't really eat. This morning, I woke at 5am with a hint of the nausea, which is why I am now here instead of sleeping to prepare myself for another weary day of sickboy. (Bowt time he got better as well).
My one silver strand of hope was that this year would actually start to improve is that I got my mac back, and on this I send you my greetings. That hope was quickly dashed when my dad phoned a couple of hours later to tell me that my mum had been in hospital since Wednesday with a fierce viral chest thing that wouldn't clear up. She's had it since Christmas, but now it has got really bad and she just can't shake it.
So, if anyone else would like to join me on 18 Feb to celebrate chinese new year, let me know. I'm done 2007 already.
Now back to bed for about 20 seconds of sleep till er pupo decides to join us.
posted by ex_pat @ 6:47 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home