Shoot Me Now

When you’re not feeling well everything stops. You can’t imagine driving a car, eating a meal or getting dressed. Lifting your head is even a chore. Such was my downfall last night. I started out feeling achy and blamed it on the run. Later it progressed into something worse. Whether it was food poisoning or the stomach flu, it definitely involved the digestive system in the most horrible way. All night long. A L L night long. I read an entire book in the bathroom. By five a.m. cramps had me curled in a fetal position on the cold tiled floor wanting someone, anyone to shoot me. I mean really, Shoot. Me. Now. Instead, I crawled to my husband and asked him to take me to the emergency room. It hurt that bad, but we didn’t go. Instead he took care of me myself and moi all by himself. Minute by minute, hour by hour. It seemed irrelevant that he had a Patriots game to go to later that morning. He stayed by me, loved me sick and all. He would have held back my hair if I asked.

Ten hours later and the Patriots won. I’m starting to feel better. I haven’t moved from the bedroom and I’ve watched more episodes of America’s Next Top Model than I care to admit. I missed work and I’m afraid to eat anything. Ugh

So, if I blew you off today, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t wish my day from hell on anyone.