Susan has already established just how awful a night of wretched vomiting, followed by 24 hours of intermittent unconsciousness can be.
However, there are a few perks of the extreme upchuck, such as;
The middle of the night old movie.
When one has vomited all night, then slept all day,
one is bound to be up at odd hours the following night. And, if one is lucky in the way that Susan was, then perhaps a favorite old movie is playing from 2:15 to 4am.
Susan watched the moody and wonderful Rebecca,
Alfred Hitchcock's first Hollywood movie made in 1940.
This is not to be mistaken for his very first movie,
The 39 Steps, made five years earlier in Britain and another of Susan's favorites.
Susan doesn't like just any old thing, when she likes something there's a good reason.
The second perk of the extreme upchuck is;
Ginger Ale.
Lovely, bubbly, barely sweet, gingery ale.
There is nothing more divine to guzzle when one has been
purged of all natural hydration.
It's almost a reason in itself for getting sick.
The final perk is;
weight loss.
There was a ten pound difference between what Susan weighed last week on her doctor's scale and what she weighed on her little sister's bathroom scale the day after her convalescence.
Susan never trusted that bathroom scale, but chooses to believe it at her discretion.
Showing posts with label Vomit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vomit. Show all posts
4.13.2009
4.12.2009
Friday Night
Susan doesn't normally get sick.
She's very lucky.
Maybe she gets a cold, but that's it.
The last thing that kept her out of work was kidney stones
And that was like, six years ago.
And they really hurt.
Susan is not in the habit of taking medications other than Tylenol.
Maybe a Tums or two when she eats too many brownies at her little sister's house.
Even in her wild youth Susan didn't ingest anything that she won't be able to tell her medium sized children about.
When they're very mature.
Years from now.
Anyway.
Everything was perfectly fine up until 10pm on Friday night.
Susan's tummy got a little rumbly.
She took two Tums.
Her symptoms persisted.
She took two more Tums and went to bed not feeling well at all.
Some hours later she was awakened by the sickening realization that she was going to have to throw up.
Oy. Susan does not like to throw up.
Not one little bit.
But, she knows that once she does she'll feel better.
Generally.
Susan made the dreaded trek to her bathroom
and did a quick wipe-down of the toilet with disinfectant
before she began what she went there for.
Oy.
She knew she was not finished.
She went back to bed, hunched over and miserable,
to wait.
Sometime later she was awakened a second time by her stomach.
Only, there was very little to purge.
Her stomach didn't care.
A new symptom was added, one which Susan will not mention.
Susan endured this angry, painful process three more times until it seemed that she was throwing up her own organs.
She also had to clean up the bathroom each time.
Susan was truly alone in the universe.
Susan eventually collapsed in a shaking, sweaty heap and passed out.
The first thing she did went she crawled out of bed 24 hours later
was scrub her bathroom to within an inch of it's life.
With her green-cleaning cocktail of course.
(Susan would like the reader to know that previous post
occurred last year and represents an anomaly, not a standard)
She's very lucky.
Maybe she gets a cold, but that's it.
The last thing that kept her out of work was kidney stones
And that was like, six years ago.
And they really hurt.
Susan is not in the habit of taking medications other than Tylenol.
Maybe a Tums or two when she eats too many brownies at her little sister's house.
Even in her wild youth Susan didn't ingest anything that she won't be able to tell her medium sized children about.
When they're very mature.
Years from now.
Anyway.
Everything was perfectly fine up until 10pm on Friday night.
Susan's tummy got a little rumbly.
She took two Tums.
Her symptoms persisted.
She took two more Tums and went to bed not feeling well at all.
Some hours later she was awakened by the sickening realization that she was going to have to throw up.
Oy. Susan does not like to throw up.
Not one little bit.
But, she knows that once she does she'll feel better.
Generally.
Susan made the dreaded trek to her bathroom
and did a quick wipe-down of the toilet with disinfectant
before she began what she went there for.
Oy.
She knew she was not finished.
She went back to bed, hunched over and miserable,
to wait.
Sometime later she was awakened a second time by her stomach.
Only, there was very little to purge.
Her stomach didn't care.
A new symptom was added, one which Susan will not mention.
Susan endured this angry, painful process three more times until it seemed that she was throwing up her own organs.
She also had to clean up the bathroom each time.
Susan was truly alone in the universe.
Susan eventually collapsed in a shaking, sweaty heap and passed out.
The first thing she did went she crawled out of bed 24 hours later
was scrub her bathroom to within an inch of it's life.
With her green-cleaning cocktail of course.
(Susan would like the reader to know that previous post
occurred last year and represents an anomaly, not a standard)
4.03.2009
Susan's Mongrel Dog Is Sick
Under normal circumstances Susan's mongrel can be expected to be flatulent. This week she can also be expected to poop in the house, vomit and whimper all night long to be let out.
Mercy!
Being a boxer, Susan's mongrel really isn't a mongrel at all, Susan just uses this term to illustrate how ill mannered the boxer is.
The dog sleeps on the couch even though she's got a perfectly nice dog bed close to all the action.
She begs for food which exasperates Susan no end and she blames the husband for this appalling behavior.
No matter how shrill and hysterical Susan's complaints have been, he absolutely will not stop feeding that dog from the table!
She pees in the house whenever there's a lot of company.
She pees in the house even when there's not a lot of company.
She lies down in the middle of everything, blocking traffic patterns.
And she doesn't keep her toenails groomed. The racket that this dog makes walking around the house drowns out the television.
Oy.
The flatulent dog is getting close to the end of her expected lifespan. She limps a little and sits sidesaddle. She's deaf and can't be counted on to get her snout out of the garbage when yelled at.
However, one benefit of her advancing decrepitude is that she can no longer jump on Susan's bed and make holes in the bedding.
For two days the bathroom habits of the flatulent, deaf dog have been unpredictable.
Last night Susan and the husband were repeatedly roused from their beauty sleep in order to let her out to dirty the yard. And while she's out she takes the opportunity to walk the perimeter, smelling everything in sight and barking at nothing in particular.
Susan waits, as trained, at the door in her underwear with a cookie.
Mercy!
Being a boxer, Susan's mongrel really isn't a mongrel at all, Susan just uses this term to illustrate how ill mannered the boxer is.
The dog sleeps on the couch even though she's got a perfectly nice dog bed close to all the action.
She begs for food which exasperates Susan no end and she blames the husband for this appalling behavior.
No matter how shrill and hysterical Susan's complaints have been, he absolutely will not stop feeding that dog from the table!
She pees in the house whenever there's a lot of company.
She pees in the house even when there's not a lot of company.
She lies down in the middle of everything, blocking traffic patterns.
And she doesn't keep her toenails groomed. The racket that this dog makes walking around the house drowns out the television.
Oy.
The flatulent dog is getting close to the end of her expected lifespan. She limps a little and sits sidesaddle. She's deaf and can't be counted on to get her snout out of the garbage when yelled at.
However, one benefit of her advancing decrepitude is that she can no longer jump on Susan's bed and make holes in the bedding.
For two days the bathroom habits of the flatulent, deaf dog have been unpredictable.
Last night Susan and the husband were repeatedly roused from their beauty sleep in order to let her out to dirty the yard. And while she's out she takes the opportunity to walk the perimeter, smelling everything in sight and barking at nothing in particular.
Susan waits, as trained, at the door in her underwear with a cookie.
3.05.2009
Susan was Sick!
Susan was in bed from Sunday night to Tuesday morning crawling out only to vomit. For the greater portion of Monday she was actually lying there moaning but did it while no one was home so that she wouldn't reveal herself to be such a pathetic load. She is not used to being sick and tends toward over dramatization.
Sue her.
By Tuesday Susan managed to walk erect & was enjoying a nice starchy diet of toast, oatmeal and pumpkin pancakes. She had her first cuppa coffee in days & like a magic caffeine elixir it banished her headache, although she still felt like someone punched her in the ribs & poured ice water over her head.
Wednesday Susan pulled herself together long enough to interview for a hopeless, dead end job in a technologically bereft environment. (The reader will take note that Susan is sick and UNEMPLOYED). She drove home & immediately climbed back into bed, coat still on, shoes off and slept until someone woke her up to eat a bland bowl of macaroni. However, Susan's symptoms had been reduced to chills, shakes & coughing. An improvement.
And poops like bricks. Sorry.
One of the perks of being sick is that she hadn't done anything in the house, no cooking, no food shopping, no laundry, nothing.
Thursday night Susan busted out some salmon burgers from the depths of the freezer to George Foreman and then put together the few viable vegetables to make Baked Rice (saute whatever's on hand with some onions/garlic, add rice & broth, bake in oven for 15 min @ 400*). She was the last to sit at the table so her family was already eating, in absolute silence, the gruel that had been prepared. Susan took a bite of the salmon & knew what it must be like for someone to have to eat from a garbage can. She put the salmon aside & took a forkful of her rice. She immediately rose from the table & spat it into the sink then collected everyone's dish right out from underneath them & scraped their dinner into the trash. Twenty minutes later they were all eating Hawaiian Pizza from Dominos.
Susan worked some canned fruit into her diet which had a lovely effect on the bricks.
Friday morning Susan awoke while it was still dark to the sound of her mongrel dog urinating in the bedroom which Susan, of course, stepped in. She peered through the darkness into her immediate future and saw a bucket, mop and multiple loads of laundry.
Sue her.
By Tuesday Susan managed to walk erect & was enjoying a nice starchy diet of toast, oatmeal and pumpkin pancakes. She had her first cuppa coffee in days & like a magic caffeine elixir it banished her headache, although she still felt like someone punched her in the ribs & poured ice water over her head.
Wednesday Susan pulled herself together long enough to interview for a hopeless, dead end job in a technologically bereft environment. (The reader will take note that Susan is sick and UNEMPLOYED). She drove home & immediately climbed back into bed, coat still on, shoes off and slept until someone woke her up to eat a bland bowl of macaroni. However, Susan's symptoms had been reduced to chills, shakes & coughing. An improvement.
And poops like bricks. Sorry.
One of the perks of being sick is that she hadn't done anything in the house, no cooking, no food shopping, no laundry, nothing.
Thursday night Susan busted out some salmon burgers from the depths of the freezer to George Foreman and then put together the few viable vegetables to make Baked Rice (saute whatever's on hand with some onions/garlic, add rice & broth, bake in oven for 15 min @ 400*). She was the last to sit at the table so her family was already eating, in absolute silence, the gruel that had been prepared. Susan took a bite of the salmon & knew what it must be like for someone to have to eat from a garbage can. She put the salmon aside & took a forkful of her rice. She immediately rose from the table & spat it into the sink then collected everyone's dish right out from underneath them & scraped their dinner into the trash. Twenty minutes later they were all eating Hawaiian Pizza from Dominos.
Susan worked some canned fruit into her diet which had a lovely effect on the bricks.
Friday morning Susan awoke while it was still dark to the sound of her mongrel dog urinating in the bedroom which Susan, of course, stepped in. She peered through the darkness into her immediate future and saw a bucket, mop and multiple loads of laundry.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
