When It Comes To Being Sick, I’m The Biggest Baby. Plus Tori Amos. But She Has Nothing To Do With Me Being Sick…Unless She Was On A Plane To My In-Laws For Thanksgiving.

Tori Amos – Cornflake Girl

*This post could be gross to some. If you can’t stand hearing about puke then stop reading now. ūüėČ

For the past week I’ve been really¬†sick. No sympathy is needed,¬†that’s just why my blog has been sucking more than normal. I already had a sinus infection and then when we put our daughter to bed on Thanksgiving night she did her sick cry she came with an app for that¬†and I thought, oh crap! To me her “sick cry” is very obvious but my hubby always tells me not to say that she’s sick. Like not saying it will make it go away. Aren’t guys strange¬†funny?

She finally went to sleep around midnight oh my gawd, she is usually in bed by 7:30 pm, and we had just gone to bed when she woke up really congested and was crying. Having a sick toddler in a hotel room and being a couple thousand miles away from home sucks.

It felt like a boulder was in my stomach and kept on flopping around so my dear hubby was up with her most of the night while I tried to keep the contents of said stomach in check. We had to make a 6 hour drive back down to my in-laws in the morning and I thought I would die. It was the longest drive ever.

By the time we got to our hotel it was the little girl’s bedtime and we had picked up dinner right before. We had to pack up everything that night because we had an early flight and we’re getting up around 5:30 am. Instead of renting a car we borrowed one of my in-laws so the hubby went to gas it up since there wouldn’t be time in the morning.

I was feeling worse and worse and downed some pepto. Big mistake. Before I was able to make it to the sink in the little kitchen area of our room, the contents of my stomach made a grand appearance, including the bright pink pepto. And then it kept coming up out of me all over the hotel room carpet.

My husband came back as I was trying to get it cleaned up and he told me he would clean the rest of it up. I refused but he insisted and since my stomach wanted to go for round 2, I let him and went to bed. Now that’s love. I don’t think I could even do that for him.

We finally made it home Saturday afternoon and luckily I didn’t puke on the plane. The hubby had to go into work late Monday since I couldn’t stop puking and then he also came home early. Wednesday I had a Dr. appointment and it was actually meant to just be for a physical. They rescheduled that because my Dr. saw how¬†sick I was.

I started to get worried because he was really concerned about my fluid levels and racing heart. I thought he was going to tell me I needed to go into the hospital for I.V. fluids. Nope, it was much worse. He gave me¬†an¬†anti-nausea¬†med to stick up my ass. Nuh-uh, No way, I’ll pass. It makes sense because I couldn’t keep anything¬†in my stomach so pills were pointless¬†but as far as I’m concerned nothing belongs up there with the exception of those, ahem, experimental times when I was younger and then I knew with absolute certainty that NOTHING belonged up there.

He also told me I can’t have anything to eat or drink until 5 pm (it was about 9 am and what I had the night before didn’t stay down for long) to give the medication time to take effect and I had to start with room temp water. Oh yum! Then I had to slowly build up to a sports drink. Even though I’ve been sick, I was starving. On Thursday afternoon I finally caved and had a yummy sandwich.

My Dr. wanted me to call him that morning to see how I was doing.¬†The physician’s assistant called back and¬†told me I could graduate up to some broth and *maybe* some crackers. I was thinking uh-huh, okay¬†as I was chowing down on¬†my sandwich.

The “butt med” for my nausea is really strong so it knocks me on my ass, pun intented, and my hubby has had to stay home from work¬†to help with the little hummingbird. When I first got sick I thought it was food poisoning but I also have a fever and an awful cough so I’m pretty sure it’s the damn flu.

I can’t even remember when I last had the flu, let alone when I’ve had such a horrible cold. So now I’m sitting in bed drinking my ever so delicious water while watching the movie¬†21 Grams for the 500th time.¬†And my stomach still isn’t sure if it wants to keep the sandwich. It also hit me that I haven’t even begun to plan for Christmas so we need to take pics of the little girl this weekend to put on our cards, put our tree up, decorate, and shop. Oy!

I hope everyone has a great weekend!

                                    

Tori Amos – Pretty Good Year

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5 Responses to When It Comes To Being Sick, I’m The Biggest Baby. Plus Tori Amos. But She Has Nothing To Do With Me Being Sick…Unless She Was On A Plane To My In-Laws For Thanksgiving.

  1. Cassie December 2, 2010 at 18:38 #

    Dang Mama!

    I’m sorry you are having such a rough go of it. I have never heard of “up the ass” medication for anyone over 1 yr. Lucky you!

    You are lucky to have such an amazing hubby to take care of you! It helps me to not loose faith in the entire male race!

    Hang in there!

  2. Elle December 2, 2010 at 19:34 #

    The up the ass med is weird but I find my Dr. to be kind of barbaric. He never seems to like prescribing any common meds, only weird ones that make me squirm or are banned in some countries. Help! ūüėČ

    There *are* really good guys out there. I know you will find the right one. Preferably one who doesn’t snore so loud that you have to kick him to the couch so you can get some sleep. ūüôā

  3. jaynecrammond December 3, 2010 at 00:45 #

    Oh god, I seem to get given up-the-arse medication all the time, not to mention having had a grumbling appendix 6 times in 15 years, the examination for which involves the Doctor feeling your appendix by sticking a finger up your arse. My husband thinks I have a secret fetish for it. I keep assuring him that I definitely DON’T!

    • Elle December 3, 2010 at 12:24 #

      Your brave, I couldn’t have a doctor doing that to me. I think maybe your doctor has the fetish. ūüėČ

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