Michael didn’t feel well on Sunday and then just before bedtime he was struck down. Norovirus, gastroenteritis, colon weasels, choose your own adventure. I was fine all day Monday at work, even a little cocky in the afternoon, but I did have a cold and left work about half an hour early when the opportunity presented itself. The roads were icy and traffic was bad which I only mention because the fifteen minute commute turning into a thirty minute drive REALLY FUCKING MATTERED. It’s amazing how quickly this virus strikes. But all things considered I was really lucky. I made it home in time, whereas if I’d stayed until my normal time at work I might never have made it home. (At least it felt that way.)
Michael was still sick, though he did his best to take care of me. Target’s online ordering was no help. It would have been so great; order online, pickup at the counter, home in fifteen minutes. But he got there to pick it up and they said “oh, it’ll be another two hours.” HOW IS THAT HELPFUL? Then they wouldn’t let him cancel the order – he ended up having to call our credit card company to stop the charge. While he was sick, poor man. (All of my sympathy is retroactive, I was too busy begging myself to stop fighting and throw up already.) At one point I was pacing and crying in the hallway and had to basically banish Michael from my presence. He wanted so badly to help, but I had to be alone with my misery.
The worst of the attack was over just after four in the morning, a round ten hours of digestive catastrophe. It took days to recover to vague human function, and I still can’t drink coffee for some reason. I would not want to live like this for long, and I have a new sympathy for sufferers of dysentery, cholera, and the like.
I try to be grateful for something different about my body every day. There’s nothing like being reminded of how bad things can get to make you remember to appreciate the little things.