So a little bitty guy urping 3-4 times in one day wasn’t enough for you? Step up to the new, king-sized Vomitronic 5000…also known as “Evan’s stomach bug finally got daddy.” Put simply, the stomach virus that Evan had on new year’s day pretty much had its way with me.
Be warned, the details of this gastric misadventure are not for the weak of stomach.
Starting at about 9 or 10 o’ clock on Tuesday morning, I started barfing – and I kept up a schedule of barfing every hour-and-a-half to two hours. Amazingly, I had stuff to barf well into the evening, until finally I was just sitting there heaving and driving the porcelain bus. I tried to drink some water to keep myself hydrated (between a full day of barfing and the nastiest diarrhea I’ve ever seen, I was running on empty), but even the water was coming up. When you can’t even metabolize water, it gets scary – hey, there go all my basic life functions. Waiter, check please!
When Evan was down with this same virus, I had to give him a few tablespoons of water every half hour – but only so many, regardless of how many more tablespoons of water he might’ve wanted. I had to take the same approach to reintroducing water to my system, but it took a while to figure out what the safe amount was. I was still barfing into the wee hours of the morning. At one point I guess I passed out in front of the toilet and was still there the next time I had to barf; at this point my wife took Wednesday off from work in case I died or something. Which, from my admittedly groggy and clouded perspective, wasn’t looking like that distant a possibility. Waking up in front of the toilet isn’t exactly an indicator that things are looking good, right?
Anyway, this afternoon I was able to start drinking water in decent quantities again, and have even managed to keep food down (food, for the purposes of this conversation, being “1/3 of a bowl of chicken noodle soup”). Everything else has basically been down to sitting or laying still.
The worst part of this? Tuesday, while I was busy kicking off Barf-o-Rama 2009, my wife took Evan to the doctor to get his latest round of shots…including the first two with live viruses. The pediatrician was adamant that Evan and I needed to be kept away from each other. Naturally, when the little guy came home, he was looking around and calling for daddy. When that happened, I felt sick for a whole different reason.
Right now, the half-time score looks like this: I’m pretty much confined to my room, with occasional company from Obi. Rope lights and the Avid are keeping things warm enough for me to sleep at ground level (we really need to get a cot someday – or at least a cot capable of holding my butt off the ground for any significant amount of time). Still drinking water, still sitting still (and typing this). Still missing the little guy too. Mom’s earned her Mom Medal for this week easy.
I know just a couple of days ago I blogged about wanting to take weight off and leave it off. You know what? This is not what I had in mind.
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