Monday, November 28, 2011

I Was Not Ready to Rumble

Originally, this post started about gluten-free foods and how I hate them because I ate a slice of gluten-free cheese pizza last week, and I just about died on my way to the bathroom. As it turned out, though, I must have contracted a stomach bug because gluten-free foods might be disgusting, but they are not responsible for ripping open my digestive tract for the last six days.

But they are responsible for the longevity of this season's NBA lockout.

If you can't already tell, this post will be about bodily functions, so if you're squeamish or can't handle these kinds of discussions, then please enjoy another blog post at this time!

I really thought that pizza was what did me in because about two hours after lunch, I felt a rumble in my stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. An additional hour later, I was writhing on my office floor trying not to throw up on my pregnant boss. I was doing the nausea mambo - dry heaving and butt cheek clenching simultaneously.

I know that sounds like a good time to you weirdos out there, but I do not have such inclinations. I usually have a pretty strong stomach, and I have been known to eat entire cartons of ice cream without so much as a burp, so this was miserable.

Once we were done for the day, I bolted into my car and started to head home, but in my nausea-induced panic, I forgot that you can't get anywhere in a timely manner in the greater Puget Sound area between the hours of 4 and 7pm.

I spent the next hour suffering through my 10-mile drive home trying not to shit myself in the car. If you haven't had to endure this, then consider yourself lucky because that was definitely in the Top 5 Worst Experiences of my life. I was frantically calling everyone on my iPhone (Bluetooth - what's up!) trying to distract myself from the pain, but no one was answering and I WAS ABOUT TO POOP MY PANTS from the stress of it all.

When I finally made it home, let's just say that hell hath no fury like a simmering stomach of indigestion because what happened thereafter is probably illegal in most states. For the rest of that evening, I crawled between my bathroom and couch like some sort of broken ass snake. I was cursing that pizza like you would not believe.

Wednesday was no better, and while everyone was enjoying a work-provided turkey lunch, I was sipping on Gatorade like it was the best damn thing I ever sipped!

But it wasn't.

There was hope on Thanksgiving. After picking up my husband from the airport, we made a ham and some mashed potatoes, thanked the Pilgrims, and ate a late lunch. At this point, I was positive that the pizza was the culprit for my digestive troubles because I was cleared out by then! I was enjoying solid foods! The toilet rested quietly in the bathroom!

Then Friday happened, and I have a new reason to call this day Black Friday. It just was not a good day for me and the plumbing. It started with some paralyzing stomach cramps that rendered me immobile and clammy, and it ended with a lot of whining and Googling "death from stomach problems."

Saturday was more of the same. We tried our best to enjoy the long weekend and attempted some eating out and Christmas shopping, but even though I hydrated with water and ate only different varieties of breads, I still felt like there was a time bomb in the seat of my pants.

During one of my quests for an empty ladies restroom, I ran into a friend who was out shopping AND OH MY GOD, PEOPLE, I never wanted to see her less. I mean, she's great! We've known each other for years! We both hate our jobs! But I was thisclose to either throwing up on her shoes or exploding out of my jeans, so I really, really didn't have time for small talk.

I wish I could say that Sunday was better, but it wasn't. I spent most of the day alone because my dear husband went back on an airplane to his work, and while I loved, loved, loved having him home with me because he is the most wonderful man ever, it was really inconvenient running to the bathroom and worrying about whether or not he could hear everything that was happening in there.

Because he could.

Now I'm on Day Six of this ordeal, and I don't know how stomach bugs work - bacterial, viral, magical, I just don't know - but I'm pretty sure I'll never be the same after this.

And neither will my toilet.