Wow. I mentioned before that I hoped Hannah was the only one to get the dreaded stomach bug. No. such.luck. It started Sunday when Sarah said her stomach hurt at church. I had felt a little queasy while singing in the choir, but had chalked it up to not eating enough that morning and went off to find a leftover biscuit. I took her home where she proceeded to be the sickest I have ever seen her. She set up residence on the floor near the toilet, slept blisfully in the bathtub for 4 hours--getting up and out to throw up, and to myself I thought, "Please let her be the last one to get it." Again. No.such.luck.
I felt it coming on, and so in all of my wisdom and Afrin addicted frame of mind, I rushed out to the drug store. If I was going to throw up for hours on end, I was going to be able to breathe, dag nabbit! I rushed into the store, got my purchase, waited very impatiently as the person in front of me sent the stock boy to look up prices not once, not twice, but three times. Paid for my liquid nasal gold, and dashed for the parking lot where I promptly threw up next to my car. You know, no one ever tells you what you should do in such a situation. Clean it up? Tell someone? Leave quickly before anyone notices? Three guesses as to what I did.
I got home, and headed to my bed. Where Sarah, Maddy (who also had gotten it) and I watched a little TV and snuggled, barf bowl planted firmly among us. I was actually worried that I would not be able to take my blood pressure medicine and it would skyrocket and I would stroke out, leaving Daryl wifeless and child-full. (Yes, my mind does work this way, and often) Luckily, I thought, I kept it down and when I woke up on Monday morning, I felt a little better. Not great, but better. So I thought nothing of it when I went to get Charlotte when she was crying in her bed. What a great wife I am, I thought to myself, sick with the stomach bug, not going to work, but yet getting up to help my husband. My next thought was oh my goodness, I think I'm going to pass out. THen, why is Daryl talking to me like that, and why is Charlotte screaming?
Apparently, and I really do think they should tell you this kind of stuff, you do NOT need to take blood pressure medicine when you already are dehydrated and your blood pressure is already low. We took it in the three positions--emergency room pro, here, folks--and sure enough, I was dehydrated. Drank some water, thought all would be fine, until I got up to go to the bathroom. And passed out and fell off the toilet. And had to have my sweet Sarah pull up my underwear as I lay on the floor. Bless. her.heart. No child should have to see that while her mother still has her faculties about her.
Daryl, who is a ROCK STAR I tell you, came home from work, took care of me in between rushing back to teach the classes that they couldn't find coverage for, AND I find out later, having gall bladder pains.
Today...day 3 of not going to work...feeling better and now just fighting, like usual, to get out of my head. You know that fear that it is all going to happen again, this time while you are driving down the road with your children in tow? (yes, this mind goes there often too, sigh) But aside from the horrendous back pain--Daryl, trying to catch me the second time I passed out in the kitchen, so lovingly stuck his knee into my back to catch me--I am feeling ok. Still not up for much food, but trying to get back in the swing of things.
Again...I will, in the future, be careful for what I wish for. A few days off of work and a break in the plateau was all I wanted. But not like this!