Misery Loves Company

And if you don't believe me just ask my bowels and my stomach.

I've never been one of those people who pukes and pukes and pukes. Never. Excepting when I was in third grade and had a broken arm rubbing on a nerve that wouldn't allow anything on my stomach for more than two minutes, ("Mommy? Which bowl do I eat out of again?") it's always been puke once or twice, and it's all over.

Often, it's been puke once, and miraculously feel better.

Not last night. Stomach cramps, puking, diarrhea, absolute misery. Every twenty minutes I was in the bathroom, dealing with one end, and then the other. Never just one end per trip, noooo that would be too simple. I had to bend over the toilet to puke and aim carefully so that if my ass decided to go all splody it would fly across the bathroom and hit the easy to clean areas of the tub instead of my roommate's shower supplies.

I found myself contemplating whether or not it really was possible for an anal prolapse to occur in the human body, or if I might really be able to get up close and personal with my upper digestive tract. And, if my stomach did decide to crawl out and escape, whether it would exit through my mouth or my nose.

I never realized how many muscles are involved in the process of vomiting until they all got sore today. I feel like someone hit me with a freight train.

But, things are improving. Liquids and a little bit of food has stayed down, so maybe the worst is over.

Oh, and by the way, Thanks AD, for the story about the ex-lax in the food. You know, the one where you told us all about crapping clear water? If not for that I might have thought I was hallucinating around five this morning, when I was spending twenty minutes with my ass running like a faucet, with no evidence.