***WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS WAY TOO MUCH TMI. THIS IS YOUR FAIR WARNING.***
We had our last Christmas celebration on New Year's Day with my family. We met at my sisters' family's ranch. Did that make any sense?! We spent the day playing games, eating great food, and visiting.
The weather looked like it was going to be ugly as it rained and sleeted on us as we drove out there but cleared up quickly. It was cold but beautiful. The kids had a great time playing with cousins and Maggie, our dog, was just about perfect.
It really couldn't have been a better day!
We did have to drive home that night and got home around 11ish. Not too bad, really. The next day, Steven and I, were heading to a hotel for a get away. Woohoo! We left early and ate a late lunch then went to the movies. We saw Interstellar and actually really enjoyed it. It reminded me of the sci-fi I read in high school. We had some pretty good conversation afterward.
We went back to our hotel and were pretty much ole foggies! He did have my wedding ring fixed and re-proposed to me. It was very sweet and the ring is so nice back on my hand.
The next morning we checked out of the hotel and went for breakfast.
Time out here. Everything was pretty great until this point. Okay, back to story.
We were eating breakfast-I won't tell you what I had because the thought makes me feel sick-and I started not feeling right. The food stopped going down and I had to stop. We went for coffee at Panera, a treat for us, and headed home. (yeah, we are those people that just really love being with our kids!)
By the time we got home the fireworks had started. I'm not talking the pretty 4th of July ones here folks. I mean the grumbly, painful kind that have you cryin' for your momma.
You get the picture?
I tried to mind over matter the whole throwing up thing and won for a few hours. Until I.just.couldn't.stop.mt.vesuvius.erupting.from.my.body.
Have you seen those movies where the person throws their heads back and a firehose of vomit is shooting from their mouths? That was me. It was not pretty.
In fact it was hideous.
It made me regret pretty much everything I had done in the last few days. The coffee I only had a few sips of? Yup, there it was. So not tastey the second time around.
It was bad, people.
I thought when the eruption was over that I was okay. I felt better after the shakes were gone and got comfy on my bed. I was doing pretty well until the shakes started. The sweating came on so suddenly that I panicked and almost hyperventilated. I started begging God to keep me from throwing up.
No, seriously I did.
He did not grant me that request.
Mt. St. Helens made an appearance this time. I thought I was going to break a blood vessel. It was violent. I kept myself from crying, because that just makes the goo down the back of your throat worse, but just barely. I begged God some more and made STeven get me some anti-nausea medicine. the taste of that medicine was almost too much too bear but I kept it down.
For about two hours.
And it seriously happened again. I am not even joking. This time I almost passed out. No lie. I couldn't catch my breath. This time it might have been a tsunami, I don't know because I kind of checked out. I remember standing there over the porcelain throne thinking of all the things I had eaten and done in the last few days wondering why on earth I would do that and promising myself never to do it again. Ever.
It was a surreal moment in my life I wish never to repeat.
Only it wasn't to be. I repeated the natural disaster that was my bodily function that night and cried out to God. Only Bethany heard me and came running! It was so violent that she thought I was pounding on the wall for help.
Yeah, that happened. It ain't pretty but it's my life.
I assured her that I was indeed alright and ushered her back to her bed. I crawled into my bed, barely making it into the cocoon of blankets. I proceeded to spend the next two hours begging God to make it go away.
He still did not answer me. Well, not exactly. Or not in the way I wanted. There were 'other' issues that popped up and caused some distress. I won't regale you with those details...you're welcome.
Let's just say it was not safe to be around me for a while. That is all on that subject.
I spent all day Saturday and Sunday in bed or the bathroom. There I said it. You knew it was happening anyway, I just needed to get it out in the open. ;-) By Monday, this morning, I was as weak as a kitten and hungrier than a lion. But alas, I could not eat.
Did you hear that? I had my bowels excavated by some poisoned food, lost more than 3 pounds, and suffered embarrassing bodily functions and I can't refill my body. I tried a saltine. Rebellion. 7up stayed down only if it was ice cold.
I finally remembered my mom's homemade bread and asked for a slice. Bingo! It stayed down and didn't cause me to question my life. I had never loved my mother so much in my life as I did at that point. I ate three more pieces of this heaven on Sunday with some of her homemade peach jam. Strange, but it worked.
Monday it was more of the same. Jam and bread...sounds like a song in there somewhere.
But, tonight? Tonight I ate a piece of pizza. A very small piece with very little toppings but a piece none the less. And I kind of wish I hadn't. It is staying down and not causing too much of a ruckus but it doesn't feel the best.
As long as it stays down I'm good.
We will have to reschedule our Family Carnival Night to another night and pray this never happens again.