Current TIme: 5:00am
I am exhausted. And you are probably fighting hard to suppress your self-righteous judgment and not say the following: “Posting at 5:00am? Hey, MMM, get a life!”
But you would be wrong. I do, indeed have a life. A very nice one, thank you very much. That is why I am sitting on the floor of a hotel bathroom typing this post.
36 Hours Ago (I HATE it when TV and movie writers employ this technique – to me it just shows they don’t trust their ability to tell their story in a linear fashion, and they have to tease with an interesting snippet to get people invested.)
I surprised my lovely EC with a weekend get away sans kids, just because I am wonderful like that. We drove for a few hours, and talked the whole time. Important things, unimportant things, etc. We arrived at our destination, enjoyed our first night and all the next day.
8 Hours Ago (9pm)
We ended up having a late dinner. Decided on a Margherita pizza – light, but yummy. Finished it off with a slice of decadent chocolate cheesecake. I ate 85% of it. Eventually went to bed, fat and happy.
2 Hours Ago (3am)
Woke up to Chernobyl in my belly. Almost threw up in my mouth. Made it to the bathroom. The acid was incredible. Ah, but I had packed too quickly – no Tums, no Zantac, no Maalox. But what the reflux did not know, is that I hate to throw up. I refuse. I hate it worse than Lady Gaga. Or Bill Maher. Or the offspring of an unholy Lady Gaga & Bill Maher union.
I walked around, sipped water, propped myself up with extra pillows, etc. I used all the tricks a man learns while watching his wife puke her way through 5 pregnancies. All through this, I managed to keep from waking her up. She will not be happy about this.
It was the cheesecake. Had to be. Either it was just too much rich, chocolaty goodness, or it had gone bad. Yep, I remain convinced it was the cheesecake.
But I would still not vomit. I can will myself to avoid vomiting for hours on end.
30 Minutes Ago
Tonight, hours on end meant two.
Searing, white hot acid pain flows through my throat and out my mouth, eyes and nose. (When I puke, I do it up right) I have never been able to puke “daintily”, as my beloved EC has learned to do through much practice.
As with everything we experience, good and bad, there is something to be learned:
1) My wife can sleep through a 7.0 earthquake. The first thing she will say when she learns of my ordeal is “Why didn’t you wake me up?” – But at least one of us should sleep, and it’s not like she can hold my hair. (Best husband ever!)
2) I love just throwing hotel washcloths and towels in the corner for someone else to deal with.
3) Basil does not digest quickly. And it floats.
4) I continue to have the utmost respect for women who volunteer for this in order to bring children into this life.
5) People who drink until they puke are idiots of the highest order.
Well, since I started writing this, my sinuses have drained to the point where I think I might be able to sleep, just as the sun starts pushing its way into our room. Maybe I can get a couple hours in. When my EC wakes me up, I’ll just put the pillow over my head and say “Read my blog.”
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Ahahaha! This cracked me up. My husband is the same way about refusing to puke. Personally, I love puking. Well, I love puking when I need to. I always feel so much better afterwards. Why endure hours of endless tormenting when it can be over so quickly? I am one of the lucky ones who don’t get sick during her pregnancies, so thankfully I haven’t has as much practice as some. But my point still remains. I’d rather rip the metaphorical band-aid off and get it over with than suffer for hours on end.
The worst thing to hurl is Oreos. Trust me on this….my daughter was quite good at it after she ate the whole package.
My teenage brothers and I had a conversation the other day about the best things to throw up. I maintain that ice cream is at the top of that list – as long as you get it within 30 minutes (otherwise it curdles.) Brothers were sufficiently impressed and grossed out. Mission accomplished. For the record, Doritos and/or orange juice are the worst things to puke.
Bonus points: These particular two brothers? Will never, ever get pregnant. Bahahaha.
I have much experience in this arena, having thrown up 4+ times a day while I was pregnant. Every day. It’s okay though, I was only pregnant for 7 months, so I got a bit of reprieve there at the end. remind me to scare you sometime with the story of how the copious vomiting burst my eardrum and also tore a hole in my heart. That’s a great story.
I’m quite impressed that you were able to get this all blogged. Blogging while vomiting is not easy.
She said “You should have woken me up.” (I would have put money on that)
My only question is… what did your wife say when she read your blog?
Tonya; Of course you can be my friend. Click away!
Thanks, to all the well-wishers. I was better the next morning.
I am not dainty while vomiting but I feel the same way you do about. I will do anything to avoid it. Anything. I have never understand drinking till you puke. That’s just stupid.
Hope you are feeling much better and I hope it didn’t ruin pizza or cheesecake for you…..or basil…thanks for that image…
I(as a woman…and a mother of 4) appreciate that you have noticed that a woman can perfect the way of being dainty while hurling. Next time, don’t fight it. It’s inevitable, like the stake pres. falling asleep in church. It’s not so bad once you are used to it. (I hope you never get used to it)
As an experienced reflux girl, I have to point the finger at the pizza and the time of night at which you ate it. Even though it tasted light, it probably had a bit of oil, the tomatoes had acid, and perhaps a lot of garlic/onion. Acid and oil are the devil(s).Either way, I know it sucks, and I am sorry. When I tried to be your friend on facebook, it said I’d better know you personally or else I’d be vaporized. Is it still ok for me to click on the request? 😉 We enjoy your posts more than we comment to tell you. Much more. 🙂
Good point “Anonymous” – now that you mention it, I can see that Bill Maher is a little “iffy”.
If the rumors are correct, a Lady Gaga/Bill Maher offspring may be physically impossible.
You know what is most disturbing about this, and it’s not the unfortunate puking. It’s the image of what an unholy union between Lady Gaga and Bill Maher would create. I may not sleep for days. The spectre of such a ‘creation’ will haunt me for days. Feel better, brother.
Sorry you are sick…maybe a nice bowl of vanilla ice cream next time.
Sandy
I’ve often said I’d rather break my little finger than throw up. Blessedly, I never did while pregnant, ’cause it ain’t pretty.