in which copious rest is not as pleasant as it sounds
I find that I am rather enjoying the mentally energised feeling that comes with one's fever breaking; although I am not entirely certain that it makes up for being in bed all day and missing five good hours of work, much less the first vomiting I have done in three years. And it was a Friday afternoon shift, too! Very busy! I love being busy with customers! Harrumph.
So yes: yesterday everyone was sick but me, until suddenly around ten at night I began to feel the first curls of nausea, which steadily got worse; I took Pepto-Bismol and went to bed, and promptly woke up an hour later to vomit. This I wasn't expecting, because I can remember the last time I vomited, and it was, as mentioned, a very long time ago. It was not pleasant. I really wished I hadn't eaten all of that rice for dinner, now that it was coming up in maggoty litttle lumps. Then I took more Pepto-Bismol and went back to bed, until about four in the morning, when I woke up to vomit again, thus terrifying the cat. And I missed the bathroom by a foot or so, which was awkward. And then I went back to bed (after soundly brushing my teeth), and the cat eventually rejoined me, which was very cosy of him.
This morning much of the nausea had abated, and I was stubborn enough to want to try to go to work. This involved me trying several times to get out of bed and failing. Half an hour before I had to be at work, I finally stood up, went over to the closet, and blacked out. I came to on the other side of the room, sitting, with a sharp pain in my thigh. It was very strange -- I had this -- sensation? hallucination? vision? -- in which I was crashing down something, very loudly, and it hurt, which imaginings don't usually do. In retrospect, both the imagery and the physical sensation afterwards heavily resembled Duchamp's Nude Descending a Staircase. (Brain, I don't even know.) And I know I must have crashed into a few things if I -- stumbled backwards across the room? Whatever it was I did when I blacked out that got me to the other side of the room. I may have hit my music stand and a bowl on the way, but they certainly didn't make all of the noise that I heard in my -- hallucination? And I asked if anyone had heard a crashing noise, and they hadn't. It was very strange, and sort of fascinating. I kind of want to know if it fits into a specific psychological something-or-other, and why I envisioned so much falling and crashing, or amplified the little that might have really happened...
Except then I was still saying I was going to go to work, because I am stupid. Only I couldn't stand up for more than a minute at a time without feeling horrible. Or sit up comfortably. ...Look, I really like my job. I finally decided in favour of actual sense (and also in favour of not infecting my poor co-workers) and called in sick, and spent the rest of the day lying in bed, occasionally listening to music or NPR, and falling asleep rather frequently. Oddly, some of my senses seemed amplified, which was sort of enjoyable, where music was concerned -- I felt sound very intensely, and listening to Ashtar Command's "In Dust" and Conjure One's "Center of the Sun" was very fascinating.
Leandra, age two, came charging in around sevenish to give me my wallet: she found my iPod on the bed, put the earbuds on, and demanded, "Lai-lai, please?", referring to this song by Rupa and the April Fishes, which for some reason is her very favourite song ever. Her whole face lights up whenever she hears it playing, and she starts dancing round in little circles, which is adorable. After Lai-lai, we listened and danced to Benny Goodman, the Beatles, Abigail Washburn, and Crooked Still. Hee.
And then I dressed in my softest, cosiest cotton dress, just in time for sunset. I think I can go to work tomorrow evening -- and I'll need my strength tomorrow, because Heidi's having a birthday party, which means there will be a horde of little girls from about seven to twelve shrieking through my house, oh help.
So yes: yesterday everyone was sick but me, until suddenly around ten at night I began to feel the first curls of nausea, which steadily got worse; I took Pepto-Bismol and went to bed, and promptly woke up an hour later to vomit. This I wasn't expecting, because I can remember the last time I vomited, and it was, as mentioned, a very long time ago. It was not pleasant. I really wished I hadn't eaten all of that rice for dinner, now that it was coming up in maggoty litttle lumps. Then I took more Pepto-Bismol and went back to bed, until about four in the morning, when I woke up to vomit again, thus terrifying the cat. And I missed the bathroom by a foot or so, which was awkward. And then I went back to bed (after soundly brushing my teeth), and the cat eventually rejoined me, which was very cosy of him.
This morning much of the nausea had abated, and I was stubborn enough to want to try to go to work. This involved me trying several times to get out of bed and failing. Half an hour before I had to be at work, I finally stood up, went over to the closet, and blacked out. I came to on the other side of the room, sitting, with a sharp pain in my thigh. It was very strange -- I had this -- sensation? hallucination? vision? -- in which I was crashing down something, very loudly, and it hurt, which imaginings don't usually do. In retrospect, both the imagery and the physical sensation afterwards heavily resembled Duchamp's Nude Descending a Staircase. (Brain, I don't even know.) And I know I must have crashed into a few things if I -- stumbled backwards across the room? Whatever it was I did when I blacked out that got me to the other side of the room. I may have hit my music stand and a bowl on the way, but they certainly didn't make all of the noise that I heard in my -- hallucination? And I asked if anyone had heard a crashing noise, and they hadn't. It was very strange, and sort of fascinating. I kind of want to know if it fits into a specific psychological something-or-other, and why I envisioned so much falling and crashing, or amplified the little that might have really happened...
Except then I was still saying I was going to go to work, because I am stupid. Only I couldn't stand up for more than a minute at a time without feeling horrible. Or sit up comfortably. ...Look, I really like my job. I finally decided in favour of actual sense (and also in favour of not infecting my poor co-workers) and called in sick, and spent the rest of the day lying in bed, occasionally listening to music or NPR, and falling asleep rather frequently. Oddly, some of my senses seemed amplified, which was sort of enjoyable, where music was concerned -- I felt sound very intensely, and listening to Ashtar Command's "In Dust" and Conjure One's "Center of the Sun" was very fascinating.
Leandra, age two, came charging in around sevenish to give me my wallet: she found my iPod on the bed, put the earbuds on, and demanded, "Lai-lai, please?", referring to this song by Rupa and the April Fishes, which for some reason is her very favourite song ever. Her whole face lights up whenever she hears it playing, and she starts dancing round in little circles, which is adorable. After Lai-lai, we listened and danced to Benny Goodman, the Beatles, Abigail Washburn, and Crooked Still. Hee.
And then I dressed in my softest, cosiest cotton dress, just in time for sunset. I think I can go to work tomorrow evening -- and I'll need my strength tomorrow, because Heidi's having a birthday party, which means there will be a horde of little girls from about seven to twelve shrieking through my house, oh help.