So my week was going on as normal. Maybe a little bit of IBS weirdness from re-introducing fructan fruits, but nothing out of the ordinary for me.
I went to swing dance on Wednesday night, went out for pizza with friends afterward, got home about 12:30, went to bed, went to sleep….
and woke up at 3:00 am. With my tummy screaming at me!
Here’s the thing about IBS. You’re not supposed to wake up in the middle of the night in pain. If you do, that’s a sign that there’s something else going on.
Like, the stomach flu.
I probably shouldn’t be surprised. A number of other folks in my program have had it, too. But still…no fun.
At about 8:30 the next morning, I got up for long enough to call my therapist, cancel my appointment, email my professor whose class I was supposed to be in at 2:00 pm, and went back to bed.
I spent most of Thursday sleeping, until the evening, when I called a few of my colleagues to see who could teach my freshmen composition class on Friday morning. Both Thursday and Friday nights ended up being kinda miserable.
Honestly, the thing that was most scary I worried I was becoming really dehydrated. I tried to sip water as much as I could, and when I could stomach food, get liquid nourishment like chicken and rice soup (with kale thrown in because I had some leftover) and green smoothies with almond milk, banana, and spinach.
But even then, I found myself getting halfway through the night and throwing up everything I’d eaten the day before. Like, everything.
Sorry if that’s TMI. It’s the reality of stomach flu, I’m afraid.
But starting Saturday, I was able to drink plenty of fluid and keep it down, as well as eat four small meals, and keep those down as well. Yay–the worst is past!
Considering I’ve spent over a quarter of the week nauseous and in bed, I’ve actually managed to get quite a bit done. After all, even small things can feel like big accomplishments when you’re sick.
So let’s start listing!On Monday, my roommate Michelle asked me to come along with her to her appointment at the hospital. Yes, my 23-year-old roommate has regularly scheduled appointments at the hospital with a cardiologist. That girl just can’t seem to get well! So I was happy to come along, but I wasn’t quite sure why she needed me, and I didn’t ask until we were cruising down Shields Street on the way to the hospital.
“So…I hope this doesn’t sound bad, but…why did you need me here?”
“Well,” she said, “not to underestimate the power of moral support, but I thought you might also want to come with me to the cat shelter afterward. It’s right by the hospital.”
Cat shelter = much dangerous. I almost took this girl home. Her name was Moo, and she was especially appealing because she was shy, meaning the shelter was looking for someone to foster her for the short term and get her used to living with people. In other words, no long-term commitment.
See, it’s not that my apartment complex doesn’t allow pets. They do. And I want one–Michelle and I both do! But, we’re both at transitional places in our lives; we’re not entirely sure where we’re going to be living next year, or who are roommates are going to be, or how busy we’re going to be with our studies. And we’re responsible (*sigh) humans who wouldn’t commit to a furry friend unless we knew we could commit to a furry friend.
Still, after we found out Moo had been claimed, I almost took this guy home, too. He had been at the Humane Society, but he had FIV, and they were going to put him down because no one wanted him ?
He was exactly the sort of sassy, confident and independent but also secretly affectionate tom cat I absolutely adore. Michelle and I even decided what we would have called him: Timothy. And then I had to remind myself that our apartment is small, and that I’m a busy person, and that he’d probably be an outdoor cat, which would put our neighbor cats at risk for FIV, and, and, and…
On Wednesday, I did both spin and swing. Which was not supposed to be my entire exercise for the week, but then the stomach bug hit.
Thursday I accomplished nothing, for reasons mentioned above.
And Friday, I
wrote finished (*cough cough) a paper for my class on intellectual property and plagiarism. I actually wrote it about the ownership of recipes, especially as it pertains to the blog world. Did you know that there is no copyright protection for recipes? Crazy and scary for bloggers who depend on their original content to make a living.
Saturday, I got invited to an event put on by one of my colleagues in the creative writing program at a cute little pub/coffee shop here in Fort Collins. At that point, I still wasn’t feeling 100%, but better–good enough to be feeling stir crazy moping around the house. So I went. We made these adorable little flags with our favorite quotes from works of literature…at least, that was what we were supposed to do…but I actually made my little quote up. Instead, it expresses a mantra I’ve been trying to say to myself lately.Here are some of other super-fun ones my friends/colleagues came up with, as well as some photos of us crafting: And finally, today (Sunday), I went and saw Bill Bryson speak at our student union.
Even though I’m a creative nonfiction writer, I had never read Bill Bryson before. I had just heard about his book The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid in a best American nonfiction class I’d had back in undergrad. But I really want to read his stuff now. He was a hoot!
I was thirsty and my blood sugar was low after the talk, so got myself an almond milk hot chocolate for a treat. ?
Have you managed to get through this winter without getting sick?
Have you ever read Bill Bryson? What do you think of his books?