A few days ago, my partner came down with what appeared to be a stomach virus. Like a king, he found himself spending a lot of time on the throne.
After yesterday’s run (which went quite well), I noticed my stomach felt off and mostly brushed it aside, though a tiny alarm bell was ringing way in the back.
I had a glass of chocolate milk when I got home and two Aussie bites–a nutty, oatmeal/high fibre kind of snack. Jeff was running late, so I figured I’d be on my own for dinner, but strangely I wasn’t hungry.
Eventually I found myself laying on the bed and dozing intermittently. Around 8 p.m. I got up and felt much worse. I then made a tactical error and not just returned to the bed, but got under the sheets. I proceeded to barf two times, suddenly and without notice.
I managed to get up and finished off in the toilet. I was no king, I was a peon, kneeling before the throne.
About an hour later, round 2 came and at this point it seemed my stomach was now pretty much empty. A little while later, I had to go to the bathroom, and that’s when I moved from peon to king.
Today, I have been vomit-free and my bathroom duties seem to be back to normal, if minimal. I still don’t feel great, but feel a little better.
And the weight? When I stepped on the scale this morning, I had lost almost five pounds overnight. One again, getting sick is a great way to lose weight. Too bad it’s always temporary. I didn’t actually lose weight, of course, I just emptied out all the food and liquid in my stomach. I mean, there’s some minor weight loss there, as that food/liquid will not go into making me more muscular/fat, but still.
The last time I remember throwing up was in the early 90s. Having now re-experienced it, I will be happy if it never happens again. The sensation of being on one knee, facing down into a toilet bowl, and waiting to see if your stomach will involuntarily convulse and push out whatever is in it, is, in a word, gross. Also, awful. And other words. I have a thesaurus here.
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