Attack of the Norovirus!

“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?”

“No.”

“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?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“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.”

Norovirus

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.

It Could Always Be Worse

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.)

 

 

 

 

 

Drat! I’ve lost my super power!

Super Me!You know all my life I’ve taken pride in one thing– no, it’s not my pole dancing (you wish it was my pole dancing) – It’s my one super power– my super powerful immune system.

People always say, “Well at least you have your health.”  Well, yeah, duh. It’s been a given.  I’ve never not had my health, until now.

I’ve scoffed at death, laughed in the face of disease.  As a critical care nurse I’ve helped the sickest of the sick.

Influenza?  Pow!

Meningitis?  Zap!

The Common Cold?  Kablam!

Strep Throat?  Kablooey!

Oh sure, I suffered through the usual childhood chickenpox, measles, mumps… And there was this one ear thing that stopped my budding Olympic swimming career cold- but never you mind that.

Let’s talk about these stupid yellow jacket venom injections.

Since I began getting these injections so I won’t die from a single yellow jacket sting, I’ve been catching every bug known to man.

If I’m at the grocery store and a woman twelve aisles away from me sneezes, I catch whatever she’s spewing.

Oh, walking into the clinic to get my venom injection?  Through the hoards of parking lot zombies?  Walking all the way down to the far end of the long long long corridor?  Past all the kiddies?  Past the old folks?  Everyone coughing?  Hello?  Please people, could you put on your bubble helmets before you leave the house?

Taking care of my husband?  I won’t do it anymore.  If he gets sick again I’ll be forced to move into the dog run.

This is the second time in five months I’ve caught a virus from him that’s become pneumonia and this time is way worse than the first time.

This is so not funny.  I want my super power back!  I had one super power and it’s been stripped from me.  Life isn’t fair!

Wasp venom is my Kryptonite.

Kryptonite.

Your Kryptonite.

My Kryptonite.

My Kryptonite.