It was 7:00 AM. Why was I awake? I looked around the guest bedroom at my brother's house for some sort of explanation. I love sleep, I don't usually wake up on my own unless there is a reason. But everything appeared as normal as can be. I started to roll over and go back to sleep when it came again, a pain in my gut so violent it could have been a contraction. I instantly went into the fetal position and tried not to cry out. Eventually I eased out of bed and went downstairs to where my brother Warnie was reading, he looked up quizzically as I entered.
"I think I might be sick," I whined.
"Oh no. Well let's get you something easy on your stomach to eat. Maybe eating a little something will help," he said.
He is such a good brother. After bringing me a plain bagel, peppermint tea and some pepto he sat and ate with me while we watched some Daily Show. The stomach cramps finally started to ease and we started talking again. Today was the day I was suppose to be leaving to head back to Knoxville.
"Thanks for the food, I really do feel better," I said smiling. Food always makes me feel better.
"No problem, I'm glad you're feeling better."
I smiled and walked towards the kitchen to put my plate up. Suddenly, I put my plate down and dashed to the hall bathroom. I puked my guts out.
When I came back Warnie looked concerned, "I thought you said you felt better!"
"I did feel better!" I said, equally frustrated.
A look of horror crossed his face, and I could see something dawning there that he was not excited about. "Maybe your pregnant..." he said.
"I'm not pregnant." I said, matter-o-factly. There was no way.
"We could get you a pregnancy test if you wanted..." You could tell he was saying this to ease my mind, he didn't really want to. No big brother wants to get their little sister a pregnancy test, no matter how old they are, or if they're married. Really I think it's probably still pretty weird for older brothers when their little sisters get pregnant period. But he loves me, so he was willing to do that for me.
"That's ok, seriously, I think I'm just sick."
As the morning progressed, there was lots more puking. I couldn't keep water down. I got a fever. I got a splitting headache. And all hopes of moving, eating, or working subsided. I gave in to my caretakers and just laid on the couch and watched "The Blind Side," which I loved. I have an incredible soft spot for feel good football movies, they make me cry.
Between listening to wonderful quotes from Sandra Bullock's character like, "If you so much as set foot downtown, you will be sorry. I'm in a prayer group with the D.A., I'm a member of the NRA and I'm always packing," and racing to the bathroom to pray to the porcelain gods, I decided it was undeniable. I had food poisoning.
If I have ever known you and known you had food poisoning, and took it lightly...I am sorry. Next time, I will come hold your hand and hold your hair. It's that bad. Luckily mine only lasted for 24 hours. Once I had purged my system I was a lot better. Wednesday night my 102 fever finally broke and the next morning I braved the 8 hour drive home. Luckily, I split it up over 2 days and stopped at my parents house half way there, still exhausted and weak.
I'm just now getting back to normal. The thought of some foods still make me queasy, and I'm still tired. But that is why, dear readers, I did not post all last week. I hope you'll forgive me, but I had the plague.