“Open your eyes.”
“If I open my eyes I’m gonna throw up.”
“I need you to open your eyes and follow my finger.”
“I told you if I open my eyes I’m gonna throw up.”
“Why are your eyes closed? Is your head spinning? Are you dizzy?”
“Then why won’t you open your eyes?”
“Because if I open my eyes I’m gonna throw up.” (Is there something unclear about gonna throw up?)
“Can you sit up for me?”
“Because if I sit up I’m gonna throw up. If I move my little finger I’m gonna throw up. Pretty much if I breathe I’m gonna throw up.”
No, seriously folks, that’s kind of how it was and as I lay on the gurney in the ER I totally grasped why the elderly and the very young die of Norovirus. How terrible. I was thinking I might die of Norovirus and if I didn’t die of the virus I was hoping my friend, super secret agent, Tom Stronach, would hop on the red-eye from London and, well, take pity on me and do his thang. That’s how sick I felt. This virus knocks you flat. You go from feeling normal to out cold on the floor in like… thirty minutes. It’s kind of how I imagine a cholera epidemic would be. I pity anyone who catches this nasty bug.
Here’s how it happened. At 7:45 a.m. I loaded the dog into the car to drive to the park for our hike. I felt a little off. Nothing I could put my finger on, just a little off. I decided, because I felt a little off, to make a quick stop at the neighborhood market which opens at 7:30 a.m. for moms who’ve forgotten to pack lunches for their kids. I drove two blocks, picked up a Coca-Cola, took a couple sips, thought, hmmmm, this isn’t really helping, but still… just a little off. I pulled out of the lot, headed in the other direction toward the park. I got less than half a mile and I realized I had to turn around, like, right now.
So I says, “Jake, we’re turning around right now.”
And he’s like… “WTF???”
It took me maybe two minutes to drive home and by the time I pulled into the garage I was already reduced to crawling into the house. That’s how fast this hit.
So, Penny Watson will be happy to learn I did eventually open my eyes and followed my physician’s finger with my eyes. He was really attractive with the cutest little soul patch. She woulda crushed on him big time.
As a nurse, I couldn’t help but listen to everything going on around me. Force of habit. The 26 year old with obscene nausea and vomiting – welcome to my world, honey. I feel you. The two unrelated seizure disorders- both men had bitten through their tongues and needed them stitched– one man had managed to create his own forked tongue. The elderly woman who’d fallen and sustained a probable fractured humerus. The drug addict who stopped by to say hey to the staff and thank them for saving him from an overdose the previous week. The cardiac event of some sort, probably a myocardial infarction (heart attack, 12-lead EKG showing significant S-T elevation– just showing off now).
Gotta say hi to my girl Jaye. She tried to reach me all day long with worried chat thingies.
So listen, I’m not usually sick. Remember that. I’m sick of talking about being sick. This is the last of it for 2013, right? Because 2013 is my good luck year. I was born on a Friday the 13th so this odd start to the year is an anomaly. Besides, it could always be worse. One of my kids’ favorite Yiddish folktales.
Oh, and I am fascinated by this pope-choosing endeavor. I hope they pick a good one. (As you can tell, I have way too much time on my hands.)