Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Two steps back

Fucking hell. That is about the only coherent thought I can form at the moment, since otherwise I am practically whimpering here in my king-sized hotel bed. I should have known that I spoke too soon yesterday about the feeling better and the goddamn tuna melt.

So, yes, today has not gone too well, although thankfully the work part was fine. But first thing this morning I threw up. Again. I suspected that little incident had something to do with the fact that I didn't get a ton of sleep last night after a long-awaited and very enjoyable, uh, bedtome story with my husband. I typically don't do terribly well on sleep deprivation -- check my sanity a year from now; it's sure to be shot -- and one of the symptoms is usually vague stomach unrest. So while I was bummed about the repeat of last week's pre-100-minute-drive episode, I wasn't overly concerned.

So I had a bagel on the drive up, followed by a mid-morning energy bar. For lunch, I had leftover Grandma's Casserole, a concoction from my mom's side of the family -- ground beef, egg noodles, tomatoes, creamed corn, all baked in a casserole dish. It's one of my ultimate comfort foods. We'd had it for dinner Sunday night, so it was plenty fresh. Later, I had a mid-afternoon yogurt.

I felt a little queasy on the drive from work to the hotel. Then, once I checked into my room, the most miserable vomiting episode of the last few weeks overtook me. While I will spare you the details, suffice it to say I will not be having Grandma's Casserole again anytime soon. I feel incredibly lousy right now. Darren's still at work, I think -- he's not answering his phone -- and I can feel myself getting all melodramatic and stupid. (It doesn't help that I am continuing to have a couple days of spotting each week; while my dr's office is unconcerned, it really stresses me out.) And then of course I start thinking about useless, unhelpful things like what I would have to do if I were this sick tomorrow, etc. etc.

Luckily, I cleaned myself up and headed over to the little market across the way before this fit of self-pity overtook me. I stocked up on ginger ale and cold water and, since my hotel room has gained a microwave since I stayed in this very room last week, a frozen Stouffer's macaroni and cheese. I have no idea if I'll be able to eat it, but it's here if I want it. My crackers are nearby, and fortuitously I brought DVDs of some of my favorite movies -- Annie Hall, Say Anything and Rear Window -- with me. So I think I will survive.

Still and all, this sucks.