I'm Back from...

A great vacation in the tropics?  The Mall for a shopping spree? A visit to our new house?  No, I wish.

The brink of death was more like it.  Last Tuesday, I came down with the stomach flu.  It was HORRIBLE.  If you skip the TMI portion, I don't blame you.  Regardless, know that I did call the OBGYN and that I was following all of their instructions even if they aren't all spelled out here.

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Seriously.  Don't read this if you don't want to be grossed out.  It wasn't a pretty sight.
Monday, I began experiencing diarrhea.  This isn't unusual for me as I have IBS.  Tuesday afternoon I was exhausted.  I wanted to take a nap so badly.  By Tuesday night, I was feeling pretty rough.  Diarrhea was in full force and was no longer even remotely similar to "normal".  When Derek went to take the dogs out at bedtime, I decided it was time to visit the facilities again.  While taking care of #2, I began to feel as if I was going to fall off the toilet and hit my head on the sink corner leaving myself with my pants around my ankles and in quite a messy situation very faint.  I finished up as quickly as possible and carefully made my way to the floor so that I could elevate my feet in an attempt not to pass out.  The time on the floor assisted me in successfully avoiding passing out.  However, it also was apparently the cue for the beginning of the vomit.  Up came EVERYTHING I had eaten since 11 that morning.  I know because I could recognize distinct items - I will spare you the list of what was recognizable.  De-licious.
Since Derek is working and I am still not, I decided to spend the night on the couch instead of in the bed with him.  This way, he could avoid my germs AND I would not disturb him lest I need the restroom again.  GOOD PLAN.
Each of the 100 trips to the bathroom was joined with a few minutes on the floor with my feet elevated to keep from passing out.  Thankfully, the vomiting was not a recurring event all night. 
I was 10 feet away from the bathroom.  And yet it was not close enough.  I can say with 100% conviction that having my husband witness the "not close enough" moments was absolutely positively embarrassing and I wish the ground could have swallowed me whole a humbling experience.
By Thursday, the worst of the death illness seemed to have left.  My fever had broken and I was no longer tied to the bathroom.  I still felt as if my body were made of lead and I was exhausted.  I ate light food and it all stayed down.
Friday, I decided that I was well enough to venture further than 10 feet from the toilet out of the house.  A trip to the local super grocery store necessitated a rest on a bench in the middle of the store with sweat beading on my forehead and a prayer that I wouldn't pass out in the middle of the store.  I tried to take the rest of the day pretty easy.  That night, Derek was very concerned about my strength level and the fact that I hadn't had any protein (that stayed down) since Monday night and encouraged me to eat a peanut butter sandwich. I believe it was still too heavy for my sensitive stomach.  Why?  Well, after feeling terrible all night, vomit visited me again.
This time, I was brushing my teeth when the feelings started rolling.  I waited patiently at the sink in the hopes that it would subside.  It did not.  As I lurched for the toilet with my hand partially covering my mouth, everything came up.  ALL. OVER.  EVERYTHING.  My towel.  The toilet.  The floor.  The shower curtain.  All over the wall and BEHIND the toilet tank.  Derek said it resembled a scene from "The Exorcist".  And thanks to all the sports drink I had been drinking to stay hydrated, it was RED.  Gross.  Clean up was NOT FUN.  And since we live in a furnished rental, I was doing the laundry to clean the shower curtain and towel at 1 in the morning.
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By Sunday, I was finally feeling up to eating some normal food again.  And today, I feel almost back to normal.  ALMOST.

Just in time for Derek to come home (to the lovely Valentines Dinner I had cooked for him) with a fever and complaining that he doesn't feel right.  In a way, I hope that he doesn't have what I did (as I wouldn't wish this illness on my worst enemy).  But in another way, I am afraid that if he has something different, I will catch that too and I am not looking forward to being sick any time again soon.  I guess we just wait and see.

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I know that I was nominated for some awards that I need to accept.  I promise I have not forgotten.  I just haven't gotten to those posts yet.  Hopefully soon (now that I don't resemble a zombie any more).

I also have a few other things that I have been wanting to blog about that I haven't gotten a chance.  I had the best intentions of writing these posts this past week when said illness took over my plans.

Well, time to take the dogs out and see if I can nap a little bit.  I have a feeling this might be a long night.