Really?

Ha ha. I've been thinking about what I could write about for a new post since it's been way too long. I found this post that I wrote a year ago but never actually posted. I thought it would be fitting since I've had some weird stomach bug this week. Not quite like the one referenced below, but stomach bug nonetheless. Apparently April is the time to get the stomach flu. I'm warning you, though--the material below is not appropriate for all viewers (or readers, actually), so stop now if you're one of those people that is always appropriate.

I recently found out that a few of the readers of this blog, including Blair, really enjoyed and have been missing my "Really?" posts. Well, let me remedy that right away by telling you about the last 18 or so hours of my life and how many times I've said that very word. But let me warn you right now that I will not be posting about social injustices or ills or some other topic that I usually favor. The thing that has made me say "really?" the past day (mostly in my head because I haven't had the strength to say it with appropriate gusto out loud) is that I have had the stomach flu. So if you are sensitive or opposed to hearing about diarrhea (rest assured that I had to look that up to figure out the correct spelling) or vomit, stop reading now. For real. If you are one of the brave few who can handle or actually enjoys (ew!, what's wrong with you?) talking about these subjects, forge ahead.
So my Sunday started out normally. We drove back from Fool Creek fairly early that morning so that Blair could make it to his 9 a.m. meetings on time. We had enjoyed a weekend of fabulous weather in Millard County that included a softball tourney for Blair and a family picnic for me. I also had a meeting on Sunday at 11:30, and I had to speak in sacrament meeting, so I was working on my talk before and after my meeting before our church started at 2:30 (yep, jealous, aren't you?). I get uber-nervous when I have to speak in public, so I could feel my heart beating in my stomach starting at 1:30 until about 4. What with my meeting and preparing for my talk, I didn't eat too much before church except oatmeal in the morning, 2 muffins, and a string cheese. My talk went ok, and my parents actually showed up for it unexpectedly. I know, they are pretty much the greatest parents ever, but that's the subject of another post. So they gave me a ride home from church and hung out for a bit while I started getting dinner ready while Blair had more meetings. I was making sweet and sour meatballs (which I really love), and I ate a few of them plain after I baked them. My stomach was pretty ticked about that, but I just figured it was being picky about what things I am allowed to eat on an empty stomach (not much, really). That's when the fun started. My stomach started cramping and just got worse and worse as time went on. We invited some of our friends over for dinner, but by then my stomach hurt so bad that I couldn't eat. Normally I would just eat through it, but I was feeling nauseous, so I decided not to. And I felt bad, because who wants to eat at someone's house when the person who made the food doesn't eat it? Not a good sign generally.

Our guests left shortly after eating because they knew I wasn't feeling well, but before they did, I had to excuse myself rather quickly at one point so I didn't poop my pants in front of them. I mean, even I know that that is not polite company.This is when I started in on the reallys. Nothing like the stomach flu to remind you that, no matter how smart or sophisticated you think you are, if a tiny virus takes control of your bodily functions, you are at its mercy. One minute we are talking about how great C.S. Lewis is, and the next I'm thinking "Really?" and sprinting up the stairs hoping I make it to the bathroom before I lose it. So after the bathroom break, I figured I got it out of my system and would be feeling better. We chatted for a few more minutes and then they left. I was pretty nauseous by that point, so I decided that I would be proactive about things and make myself throw up so that I would feel better. My body has a pretty strong anti-barf mechanism, so I was in the bathroom for probably 20 minutes gagging myself with the only result being that I spit about 50 times into the toilet and then ultimately threw up about 2 tablespoons of the contents of my stomach. Really, digestive system? Even when there's something beating the crap out of you (literally), you can't just barf everything up one time? Before last night, I hadn't vomited since my appendix ruptured in 2006, but for some reason I thought I could make myself do it. Nope. I decided that 8:15 was not too early for bed, so I got my pj's on and went up and laid in bed. Not that I could fall asleep with the cramping in my stomach, but every time I would even get semi-comfortable, there's the signal, and I'm like "Really?! Again? How is there anything left?" as I run to the bathroom so I don't poop the bed. My very own colon cleanse, for free. So great. One of the times that I laid back down after round 6 or something, I thought, "Man, a colostomy bag is sounding better and better. Those guys have it made." So obviously the virus was impacting both my intestines and my brain.

Around 9, the virus finally talked my stomach into releasing its contents. I sat back down on my bed after one of the 23 bathroom trips, got the vomit-induced neck heat, picked up my bucket, and threw up approximately a gallon of stuff. At the same time, my nose started bleeding from the force and the lack of fluid in my body, so I was vomiting and dripping blood into the bucket. When I was finally done, I went into the bathroom to dispose of the mixture of my stomach contents and my blood while holding my head over the bucket dripping blood from my nose so I wouldn't get it on the carpet. I asked Blair to bring me some water to wash out my mouth, and when he got up there and saw me, he was probably thinking "Really? This is what I'm married to?" But he didn't say anything like that. He just gave me the water and said, "Make sure you brush your teeth." I love that man. So practical. I talked to my mom on the phone shortly after that because Blair and I were thinking that it must be food poisoning, so I thought I would check and see if they were feeling ok since I had been eating the same things as them for two days. They were fine, but my mom suggested that maybe I had the same thing that my niece Taryn and my nephew Jonah and sister-in-law Darci had last week. Really, immune system? I saw Taryn for about five minutes last Monday, and she didn't sneeze or otherwise breathe on me, so what the crap? Really, I can't fend off a virus from a two-year old? Really?

I finally fell asleep and woke up this morning feeling a little better. But I thought it would be rude to go to work in case anyone else has as sweet of an immune system as me, so I stayed in bed drinking Coke, water, and gatorade (separately) and eating saltines and sleeping a lot. I finally got up at 4 and brushed my teeth and took a shower. And somehow, I still smelled like the flu even after my teeth-brushing (with toothpaste) and showering (with soap). Really? What does one have to do to get the death smell off? Bathe in lye or acid or something? Really?

So there you go. And now you're the one who is thinking, "Really? You thought that was appropriate to share on a blog?" Yep. I mean, honestly, who can't relate to that? And I appreciated it even more since I've had another round this week. And don't worry. Next time around will be cleaner, maybe. No guarantees, though.