newsong (newsong) wrote,

Nausea and Loathing

Why, hello LJ. Long time, no see. Probably feels like longer to me than to anyone reading this.

Sunday night after running sound for the church I was invited out for supper with a group of aquaintances who I didn't know terribly well, but I decided I'd come along anyway. We ended up eating at TacoTime, then going to the tail end of Westview Church's worship night, where I got to take communion for the first time in a long time. Then we played tag for about an hour after the service, then went over to a couple of the guy's bachelor pad and watched School for Scoundrels. Aside from the fact that it was totally a guy movie, and full of overtures about male and female sexuality that are decidedly low-class, it wasn't a bad movie. Art History makes it tough for me to enjoy anything nowadays.We ended up ordering some pizza, and I thought I was merely paying for that the next day when I was uncomfortably gassy.

My Monday morning Art History wasn't too bad, and I spent a number of laborious hours working on one of my somewhat useless painting assignments in color mixing. Then I finished just in time to go to ballroom dancing.  I hopped a bus, I wasn't feeling up to walking there. I went through the class in relative discomfort, though we were doing Cha Cha and thus I enjoyed it a little bit. Afterwards I asked the lovely lady who often gives me a ride home if she would mind giving me a lift to McNally Robinson, and she obliged. I had a small sub at Quiznos, but my stomach was really upset now.

By the time Jessie came to do coffee, I was really starting to feel it. We ended up discussing some fairly weighty issues and her idea for a novel. At some point, earlier than I would have liked, I hit the washroom, then I asked her to call her parents for a ride. By the time we got to the lobby I was sick as a dog, and I ended up throwing up in the front lobby garbage can, trying to space it while people weren't walking out. I have a history of throwing up in lobbies/embarrassing public spaces. Also, I joked to Jessie, "How many times have you seen me throw up now?" Only twice, she laughs. Ugh. The thing is, it's warm in there, and if I leave it without telling anyone, the whole place is going to stink like a garbage dump in half an hour. I steel myself, then walk to the side of the round front desk. "Excuse me, I'm not feeling well, I ended up throwing up in your front lobby garbage can, it's really warm in there, so I had to tell you or it will smell..." The lady said, "You look really pale!" and followed me to the front, where they took the can and replaced it. I breathed a sigh of relief that it was over with...

I am continuing to roil inside on the way home, and for the remainder of the night I am unable to sleep for more than an hour at a time without hitting the washroom, since it's coming out both ways. I have mentioned on LJ before that hacking/throwing up is my least favourite kind of sick - excuse the irony. It has something to do with how close it is to suffocation, I think, and how little control one has.

Insert countless hours of misery. Tuesday, 5am. I am heartily conscious that I'm not hitting class today. I try to call my Mom, but I can't raise my voice above normal talking volume and she can't hear me for a while. Finally, she passes my door and I get her attention, asking her to bring my Sculpture project in so she can hand it in for me on time. My prof is a bit of a nazi about handing stuff in, which is fair enough. I wasn't about to go get a doctor's note though. Way too much energy.

Tuesday passes. I can't eat. I spend the day similar to the night, except not throwing up.

Tuesday night, 12am-3am. I read a book that seems to be intended as a moral lesson, yet without reason or morality - it's called Affair in Palestine and I don't recommend it. Still in pain, and the most I've had to eat is drinking an entire pitcher of Five Alive tropical because everything else disgusts me. I tried some rice pudding that my Mom made especially for me, got about two teaspoons down.

Wednesday morning, 9:35am. Realization that I'm too weak to go to class. My hands and face feel kind of papery. The thought of food disgusts me beyond reason, and I begin to worry about how I'm going to start eating again.

Wednesday, 12:34pm. I sigh as I realize exactly how far behind missing three classes puts me.

Wednesday, 4:35... I have a one slice of bread sandwich with turkey filling that I normally love. I had to force myself to eat it, but it went down. The aftermath of this attempt at becoming human again is unknown. I am feeling mediocrely bad, but not like I'm in danger of giving up the food I just ate.

So that's an account of my misery. Questions, comments, concerns...
Tags: #life, #sick

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