Monday, April 14, 2014

My Body is Seriously Pissed

P.S. I didn't Steal Heroin
As you may recall, I had the lung bug a couple weeks ago. That cleared up (for the most part, I still have a little crap in my lungs) after what felt like forEVer and then I ran a half marathon, as I'm sure you also remember. I recovered from that (and that was rough) and thought life was going to be rainbows and sunshine again. Wrong. I got the flu - aka - Upper Gastrointestinal Boiling Pit of Hell (UGBPH <- see? even a nasty looking abbreviation). That's like Level VI of Hell, I believe. Anyway, I was on call this weekend, and of course, I got a call on Friday that I had an admission. Ok, cool, no biggie. Got it done, time passed on. Turned out she's a twice daily visit, also cool and no biggie. And she's pretty spiffy of a lady. Here's the biggie: At 0400 on Sunday morning, I woke up with the sea-sick-don't-move-or-it-erupts death grip on my stomach. Yeah, you know the one. (Typically appears after a night of liquor, bad decisions, and merciful memory loss.)  I thought, hmm.. Maybe I'm just a little lot woozy, and again, no biggie. After all, I never vomit (unless you count New Year's of 2013, but we won't discuss that) so why should I be pukey now? I roll over and go back to sleep. Peachy. At approximately 0600, I wake again with the same business. Hm. This gave me pause. Maybe I am a little ill? I grab the trash can and stick it by my bed, not to use of course, because I don't need it, but just in case. At 0730 or 0800 I wake up, again, and my insides are entirely displeased. My unnecessary trash can became my BFF over the next day. Almonds and mandarin orange flavored water. Take my advice, and don't throw those up, k? *shudder*

Disclaimer: I'm a nurse, you know, so there isn't much out there that's a TMI for me, yes? I'm the TMI queen.

I have to head to Spiffy Patient's house. I can't stop vomiting. After a particularly violent episode of chuckin' cheerios, I felt better (briefly) and rushed to Spiffy's house, hooked up her IV, knocked out my next patient visit, rushed back to Spiffy's house, unhooked her, and made it home just in time to.. you guessed it..

This is when my day imploded. Puking isn't bad enough, oh no. Now, I had pain everywhere. My temp went up to 100ish (I don't trust my thermometer, because certainly my brain was boiling at 120°), I had a fan at the head of my bed and my space heater at the foot because my forehead was sweaty and the rest of my body was shivering. I laid on the very edge of my bed with my BFF trash can right beneath me and suffered. Gatorade went down, came up. Water went down, came up. Sierra Mist (which I swear by for nausea) went down.. and came up tasting like Lemon-Gatorade. And the Gatorade I had was strawberry. I suffered. For hours. My feet hurt, my back hurt, my hips hurt, head hurt, my thighs hurt (damn you half marathon!!) my toes hurt, my hair hurt (this is not an exaggeration). And then, I had to get up to visit Spiffy again. I dragged myself out of bed, and "drag" is literal. I'm not sure how I got in the shower, but I did. As before, moving around provoked another violent episode of regurgitation, and after it, I headed to her house, and again hooked her up and headed out to return an hour later and unhook her IV.

Somehow I survived this. Don't ask me how.

Everything I did took considerable effort, and rest periods in between. I still feel this way today. Utter and miserable fatigue. And I had a full work day today.  Somehow I survived this, too. You can say it. I'm pretty masochistic bad ass.

Since I know you're curious, I haven't vomited since about 0630 this morning, so I must be on the downhill of this sickness. I do continue to feel as if I've been struck by a train, and as I type this I'm laying in bed, but unable to sleep. So you get the full report.

Lucky you.

I don't understand this picture. But it looks unpleasant, so it fits.

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