surely death is better than this?

Nov 29, 2011

Or maybe just a morphine drip?

It all started in the wee hours of Saturday morning with Keziah hobbling to the bathroom and throwing up. She proceeded to throw up for many hours after and through a brilliant plan of laying on the bathroom floor in a heap, she hit the toilet every time. In between puking episodes, she would moan and whimper and we would try to help her as best we could, but she is a pretty self-sufficient sick person so she didn’t need much, just her water bottle refilled and her ice pack switched out.

The moaning continued through Sunday morning and we all breathed a sigh of relief when that afternoon she walked for the first time in 36 hours. The relief-sigh played double-duty as we were all grateful no one else in the house of 14 people had shown signs of illness. We piled into the suburban and made it home without any more vomit escaping her lips.

That night as we knelt down for family prayer, Fisher threw up a two foot pile of black sludge right in the middle of our circle.

So gross.

He proceeded to throw up all night long and unfortunately, he only hit the toilet once.

Again, so gross.

I quickly made other arrangements for my friends who were coming to visit to stay with some other friends…didn’t want anyone else to have to deal with this!

By 11 a.m. Fisher was back to feeling pretty well and playing with Annesley.

Again, I breathed a sigh of relief that no one else was sick.

Then Blythe got the chills and started whimpering while she camped out on the couch. No throw up though, which, of course, merited another sigh of relief.

On Monday evening, after getting home from a pawn shop search for a sub-woofer for Keziah’s science experiment, the relief-sighs stopped.

That is when it hit Richard and me.

A home in which the oldest child, a girl-child no less, is non-functioning AND both parents are non-functioning is not a pretty place. It is not a place I could recommend, in fact, I would advise avoiding it at all costs.

Thus began 12 hours of the three oldest members of our famly moaning, writhing, and crawling on the floor. Poor Richard slept (although I don’t think much sleep actually occured!) in the bathroom and lost a multitude of fluids out of multiple orifices. After several hours of puking and other unmentionables, he felt a lot better and somehow managed to go to work today.

My night was a different story. Unfortunately, my body can no longer throw up and so my pain did not decrease. For approximately six hours I felt as if I were spread eagle on an operating table with a boxer pummeling my abdomen. Hard.

Fifteen hours later I feel like little gnomes are running around inside me, jumping up and down and having a jolly good time, but at least the pummeling has stopped.

Blythe is now curled up in bed with me and we are both still hurting. Hopefully Keziah can take care of the little ones today, conduct her science experiment, and wait on us hand and foot.

Wondering why I can’t throw up? Well, here’s the deal: I threw up for 40+ weeks with each of my full-term pregnancies and with my ten miscarriages, I threw up as well. Within 24 hours of conception I was puking my guts out. I think my body is done with the whole hunching over a toilet thing. Last summer, we all had food poisoning. The other five people in this home threw up a few times and felt better once all the toxins were eradicated from their systems. Me? I was sick for three whole days because my throw up mechanism is turned off. It is not a good way to live. Trust me.

Last night I wondered if I would survive the pummeling. Thank goodness I did. I’m sure Annesley will start puking today and she will need her mama.