Well, I thought I’d made it through the winter without getting sick. After all, Easter was Sunday, right? Winter is over.
I was wrong.
A couple weeks ago my little great-nephew came down with a stomach flu. Throwing up, diarrhea, nasty sick. Then his mom, my niece, got it. Then her sister, my other niece and her husband got it. Then their mother, my sister, got it. Then, my little great-niece, who lives with my sister, got it. Then my other sister got it this past Thursday.
From the time my great-nephew got it, I fretted that I would get it. When my nieces and sisters got it, I fretted that I would get it. They kept telling me, “Oh, you won’t get it. You’d have had it by now.” I didn’t believe them. Every time my stomach gurgled I thought, “Is this it?” I imagined myself into nausea that never materialized.
By Easter, I figured I’d beat it. I cooked a feast, served it, and ate it. Sunday night I was pretty happy. If I hadn’t gotten it by then, I probably wouldn’t right? Wrong.
Monday, was my day off from work. I spent it happily picking on Easter dinner leftovers. I felt fine. I was fine. Fiiiiine and dandy. I went to bed Monday night and slept the sleep of the healthy. Until 2:30 AM. I awoke with an impending sense of doom. An awful, restless, shivery, feeling of terrible anticipation. Not necessarily nauseous, just….awful. I got up. I got back down. I went into the bathroom and paced. I got back into bed. I got back up again. I waited and waited for the inevitable.
I can’t even remember the last time I threw up, but I knew that feeling. I knew what was coming and at this point, I was praying for it.
I tried to go back to bed and pretend it wasn’t happening. I tried to force myself back to sleep. It wasn’t happening. After what seemed eternity the awfulness finally happened. I threw up. I hugged that toilet and wrenched my guts until I cried. Yes, I cried. Like a baby for my mother. It was totally involuntary, just like throwing up.
I had gotten it. The stomach flu that had ravaged my family had now found me. I spent the rest of the night alternately sleeping and throwing up. By morning, my stomach had calmed down, but my body was wracked with pain. Hot, feverish, spine searing, head splitting, hit by a truck pain. I couldn’t open my eyes – the light hurt. It was okay, though, because all I really wanted to do was sleep, and sleep and sleep. I slept. I slept all through the day and into the night and into today.
I woke up this morning feeling oh, so much better, but weak. So weak and shaky and headachey. But you know what? I’m so glad. I’m glad it’s over. Waiting and wondering if I was going to get sick and throw up was almost worse than actually getting sick. Now it’s over and done with and I don’t have to worry anymore. It’s a relief, really.
So, I’m on the mend. I’m glad I got “it.” And if I never get “it” again in my life, I’ll be even gladder.
