The Clutch

For the last two days, I have been held hostage by the wretched stomach flu.  It grabbed me suddenly and before I knew it, I was a prisoner to my porcelain throne.   The last time I was ill, truly ill, where I was secured in my bed, was two years ago.  Two years of not being branded by some evil germ.  But, on Wednesday, that streak was broken.

Yes, there was a point where death look appealing.  My family is not used to me being “under the weather” (by the way, that is a ridiculous saying).  If we are being literal, I am under the weather most days….under the rain, under the sun, etc.  Anyway, I digress.   The illness has made me a touch cranky.  I woke up this morning with no stomach issues, but I do have a raging headache and my body feels like it has been in a cage match.  I know, you are thinking I wish she would share her cage match experience, but I have none.  I imagine that one’s body would hurt after participating in one.

Being ill with this stomach crud reminded me of being pregnant.  I had the worst morning sickness. It made that chick from The Exorcist  look tame.  Probably one of the reasons for my displeasure of pregnancy.   Nine months is a long time to be an incubator to a human life when you are constantly losing your lunch or all three meals, in my case.   I was that lady who would open her door at a stop light to empty my stomach.  There was no pregnancy glow and I certainly wasn’t one of those mothers who was sad when the hostage situation was over.   Ideal pregnancy length, for me, would be twenty-four hours.

I think I am at the end of this particular germ fest.   There has been Lysol sprayed all over the house and I waiting for the next shoe to drop, or in this case, the next person to claim the porcelain throne.    Maybe they will escape or maybe they won’t.  All I know is that I am thrilled to be on the end of this particular strand and back among the living.  The bonus is that I lost four pounds and I have a new lease on life due to the fact that I am no longer spending endless hours in my bathroom.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s