My Blech

[sorry --this one's graphic!]

About 10 years ago, just before my wife & I were engaged, I spent a rather nasty weekend in her basement suite. It all started on the Friday night when her roommate came home from work with his girlfriend. She kind of waved hello and made her way immediately into the bathroom where she proceeded to get sick.

Very sick.

The roomie followed suit the next morning and was nice enough to enliven us with tales of indecision as to whether or not to sit on the toilet or stick his head in it. All day Saturday, he sat on the couch or slept in his room, with periodic "runs" to the bathroom.

My soon-to-be bride followed on Sunday and by Sunday night we could hear the landlady upstairs yakking into her toilet. It was airborne and somehow I'd escaped it all! I stayed the extra night, after taking care of the roomies and making sure they always had cold water, crushed ice, and soda crackers to munch on after "exits" to make sure that my woman was properly taken care of as well.

And lo and behold, Monday morning, it was my turn.

And then they kicked me out of the suite and sent me home.

Honestly, I barely made it home. I was sick twice in the 30 minute drive home and only once did I pull over in time. I was covered in vomit by the time I got home and had to get help cleaning the car. The once time I did pull over, I honestly though about just collapsing in the ditch and staying there. I still couldn't believe after all I'd done I'd be treated like that.

Although I never figured out the reasons the roomies acted the way they did (except of course, no one wanted to get sick again), my soon-to-be wife was another matter. It was probably only a few months ago that I truly understood her actions. And it was a cousin of hers who described it to me. It seems her mother's family always viewed illness as something that was "shut away." If you were sick, then you went to your room and stayed there 'til you were better. It didn't matter where you were. You get into your own bed. He explained this to me because his wife felt hurt the first time she was sick after they were married and he just left her alone to stay in bed. That was the way it was in his family, just like my wife's.

In my family, however, it wasn't quite like that. The sick person usually ended up on the couch in front of the TV, so that the family could drop by and visit and check up on you. While not exactly catered-to, you were at least given something to drink and peace and quiet to sleep if needed. And for some strange reason, it was always my parents' favorite time to order in Chinese...

Well, the virus struck again this past week with my son getting it first. His favorite nap spot became my chest and sure enough I was violently ill by Wednesday night. He was completely better, so I retreated to the TV room and vegged all night and well into the morning. I was awoken by the sound of retching --my wife-- and later by the sound of crying --my daughter who had vomited in her sleep. By Friday, my son was running laps around all of us as we turned our house into a minor infirmary.

I had some toast today. My first "meal" since Wednesday afternoon.

And no bad feelings about no one there to take care of me.