Am I really as neurotic as I feel?

RIP, President Ford

I'm sure he got a kick out of this (senseless) skit.

Posted by: greeneyes at 10:56 | link | comments (2)

I just finished a small plate of plain pasta.

Now, normally I wouldn't have the desire to share this information with others.  I'm sure there are plenty of people who do this on a regular basis, some of whom may even read this blog.  I'm sure there are countless people who would take drastic measures to eat plain pasta.

However, this week does not qualify as "normally."  It started out "normally."  I forget what I did on Sunday, babysat a friend's baby on Monday morning, belly dancing class Monday evening, went to work on Tuesday.

It was downhill from there.

I felt kind of queasy Tuesday morning.  Just a bit off.  Nothing serious.  Certainly nothing out of the ordinary.  I went to work in the afternoon as planned.

The queasiness became gradually worse as Tuesday wore on.  I was hungry, but couldn't bring myself to eat much.  I certainly couldn't eat my supper.

The rumblings started up early evening.  Okay, too much sugar free candy.  It happens.

I felt worse.  6 o'clock passed.  At 7, I asked my friend and co-worker M if it would be a bad thing if I left before 9.  She could tell something was up just by the look on my face.  I decided to stay as long as I could.  No need to overreact.

Around 7:20, a wave of nausea came over me that can best be described as "pre-pre-puke."  You know the feeling.  You feel icky, rather hot, but you're pretty sure nothing will come of it at the moment.  I started to pack things up, just in case.

At 7:45, another wave.  This time it was worse.  The "pre-puke" feeling.  Hotter, a bit of a sweat, shaky hands.  My stuff was ready to go in a jiffy, and I walked as quickly as I could (not very) out to my car.

I pull up to my place around 8, and after a close call after putting the car in park, I made my way inside and grabbed a pan on my way to the bathroom.  I knew what would happen, and I knew it wouldn't be pleasant.  I refused to make a decision no being should have to make.

Not a moment too soon.  After losing about 2 pounds in about 15 minutes (all without throwing up just yet, and during an event that can best be described as--this is graphic, and I'm a lady, so brace yourselves--peeing out my ass), I decided to take a shower, because a warm shower always makes you feel better, right?

Riiiiight.

Less than 2 minutes after I turned the water on, I turned it back off because in a matter of about 5 seconds, I realized that the sugar-free candy wanted out.  Even though my toilet is less than 3 feet away from my shower, I didn't have enough time to reach it.  Thank goodness for the pan.  I didn't even have time to bend over to get close to the pan.  Thank goodness for good aim.

Two pounds lighter still, and feeling somewhat better (yet quite drained), I went back into the shower, this time without incident, and made my way to the couch where I managed to doze for a bit.

Three hours later was round 2.  Simultaneous.  I'll spare you what I mean by simultaneous, but if you're confused, refer back to the "decision no being should have to make" line.

Another 2 pounds lighter.  Yeah, I thought everything had made its way out the first time.  Lord knows it felt like it.  But apparently not.  Another shower.

Back to the couch, where I was awake until after 2 because I had to watch Everest: Something Something.  I forget what it's called, but it documents two teams trying to summit Everest, and two of the guys were told over and over to turn around because they didn't have enough oxygen, but they wouldn't.  It's good TV.

I dozed for a few more hours and managed to wake up for round 3.  Seriously.  What could be left?

I wish more was left, because that would have made round 3 way more enjoyable on the "crappy life moments" scale.  I still managed to lose 2 more pounds, which brings the tally up to 8.  In 15 hours.

The rest of Wednesday, Thursday, and today brought better times.  Relatively better times, anyway.  No throwing up since round 3, but I wish I could say the same for the rest of the goings on.  D brought over some sickie supplies for me on Wednesday afternoon--Pedialyte, chicken soup, toilet paper, applesauce.  I ventured to the store yesterday.  I ventured out again today.  I haven't made it to work, though.

I'm still queasy; my digestive system is still quite touchy.   The intestines, especially.  So I've been surviving on Pedialyte, Gatorade, soup, applesauce, dry toast (which is actually pretty good), and oatmeal with applesauce for 2+ days.

It turns out I like to chew.  Chewing is good.  Chewing is stimulating.  Chewing is satisfying.  Not chewing makes me antsy.  It even makes me a little depressed.

So you can understand my excitement when I had to blog about getting to eat plain pasta.

Posted by: greeneyes at 21:51 | link | comments (5)

"It is a lovely demonstration of the celestial ballet that goes on around us, day after day, year after year, millennium after millennium," said Horkheimer. "When I look at something like this, I realize that all the powers on Earth, all the emperors, all the money, cannot change it one iota. We are observers, but the wonderful part of that is that we are the only species on this planet that can observe it and understand it."

Posted by: greeneyes at 21:03 | link | comments