No energy.
Flat as a tack.
I am expending what little I have on the simple mundane duties that are required of a mother. Nay, a human being. Breathe in, breathe out. Phew, that’s exhausting.
I was struck down by the dreaded gastro bug on Sunday night. One minute, I was out sharing a meal with some of my dear neighbours (great girls, I feel so grateful they are nearby to call on… not that I called on them in my hour of chucky need… I’m saving the favour for something more, dare I say, savoury…)
Next minute, I was lying in bed wondering who had embedded that painful metal rod through the front of my brain.
Then, on cue, every 20 minutes for the first hour, the bucket beside my bed became my go-to.
Never one to under-achieve, I increased the frequency. For several hours, I was given barely 10 minutes’ rest before the next heave-ho session. I called out to Steve every few “times” to refill my sipping water and my bucket water. He was like the best nurse you could ever hope for. Without complaint. Replenishing without a word…. probably lest he be ill himself.
If there’s one thing I can’t cope with, it’s vomit. Not even my own. Even the word makes me feel quite ill. But oh, that sweet momentary relief from the twisted gut pain you get for those brief two minutes or so before the stabby pains set back in. Aren’t they delicious to savour?
By the third hour, I wanted absolute silence. I heard Steve start the oven for their lunch. Immediately, my mind wondered what he was feeding our child for lunch. And for the next unbearable time, all I could think was the word “pies.”
Pies. Pies. Pies. Chuck, heave, groan.
By the fourth hour, I managed to settle my overactive reflexes down enough to grab a fifteen minute delirium-filled sleep. I had You Win Again by the Bee Gees stuck on replay in my head. WHYYY? Sweet mercy, why that song? I was going quietly mad. It reminded me of a scene from “Touching The Void” where the survivor describes being close to death, thinking he would die out there in the snow, and he had a Bony M song stuck in his head. It was one of the only light-hearted moments of the film. I feel him.
By the fifth hour, I would sob into the bucket at the end of the “spiw” (the LGBB’s cute word for it, a mixture I think of “spill” and “spew” that she must have misheard the first time someone said it – I prefer spiw, much better than that V-word I mentioned earlier).
And by the sixth hour I had begun the pleading promises. “If I ever get better, I’ll wash those grimy windows I’ve been looking out of and promising myself I should clean”, “If I ever get better, I promise I won’t drink so much coffee”, “If I ever get better, I’ll do more for world peace…. anything…” You get my drift.
I spent the end of the day quite pleasantly wrapped up on the couch by the fire with my dear little girl placing a lavender eye pack over my forehead, patting my hair and saying, “If you need anything else I’ll be right here. Ukkay?” somewhat patronizingly, but still oh so gorgeous as she flitted out of the room and out of earshot anyway. Bless her.
So that’s where I’ve been. And where I am.
Today, I am left feeling like my ribs have been crushed in a vice, bruised and battered from their enforced workout. So… how are my pec’s looking? Wanna compare core strength? Mine’s pretty darn good today. Forget your work-out fads, just get down on the floor and simulate hurling your guts up, you’ll soon have a shapely torso I’m tipping.
And now, I will leave it to Mr De Becker (Gotye) to describe how grateful I feel now it’s all over…. I’d best get started on my long list of promises.
How does your mind cope over the hours of a sudden, sharp, nasty bout of raging illness? The type where you can’t even distract yourself with listening to music or a TV but you can’t sleep either? Does it go as batty as mine?
Oh you poor love Im so glad you are better now.
I have been there and yes I have pleaded with the universe all sorts of weird things if only it would stop my vomiting NOW.Even as a nurse vomit was one thing I could never get used to.If I so much as hear someone being sick I want to vomit myself.Not very good way to be when working with an outbreak of gastro in a childrens ward.
I hope your list of promises isnt too long.Big hugs.xx
The words “outbreak of gastro in a children’s ward” strikes fear in the heart….. oh, my stars I couldn’t! (Not without joining them) Thank you, will gladly take your hugs now the bug has passed and I can’t inflict it on you x
I have soooo been there. Also can’t handle vom… spiw.
Feel better.
And start cleaning those windows.
Bedroom windows: check. Rest of house…..: meh.
Thank you!
Oh wow. How awful. I’m so glad you are feeling better. I hope nobody else gets hit by the bug.
Oh I hope so too, I couldn’t deal with the voms…
Oh ick.
I go into complete denial. Ignore all pains until the veeeeery last second then, well, run as fast as I can to the loo. Because my stomach finds it very hard to stop once it starts. Ugh.
I hop you are recovering nicely now though. As for the promises… it was the delirium talking, ignore at will
It SO was the delirium talking. Mind you, I’m a superstitious thing. Might just finish at least cleaning my windows. I’ll leave world peace to someone else.
Just you keep that virus of joylessness to yourself, you hear?
Glad you’re feeling better. Gastro bugs are horrendous and make the sufferer feel less than human.
*bark* ‘ere! What’re you saying?
Glad you’re on the mend Kikz. But can I just say quietly, that gasto-spiwwyness doesn’t compare to a Bee Gees earworm. “You Win Again” is bad but I had that “Chain Reaction” song stuck in my brain for ages once. It was Bee Gees AND Diana Ross, so a double whammy. You know that part where she sings “allllll you gotta dooooo”? Over and OVER.
I love a bit o’ the Bee Gees though. I had a thing for Baz when I was young. He wore his hair well.
Oh now you have my utmost sympathies!
Aaaaw gee that sounds like hell on Earth. Halfway through reading I could feel my stomach tightening out of stress, imagining those pains. I used to get migraine in my 20′s and I would spiw hourly and only feel good for half an hour after that. These afflictions are cruel bastards. Cruel bastards. Glad you’re feeling better now!
Cruel bastards! I love it. And please perpetuate the “spiw”. Not literally, of course.
Oh, just ugh. I’m so sorry you are ill, but it does sound like you have the best nursemaids ever. x
‘Tis true. If you’re gonna spiw, you wanna spiw in this house.