I got the stomach flu last week. It wasn’t pretty. I won’t share all the gory details because I don’t even want to know about them, just know that I am a big baby when sick. Extremely dramatic. Errr … more dramatic than normal. I weep. I shout. I pound my chest. Okay, I don’t actually do any of those things, but I envision doing them as I lie in a fetal position on my bed and feel very, very sorry for myself.
Saturday I felt much better and by Sunday I felt great. Monday morning I greeted the day with smile. Okay, that’s also a lie. I complained bitterly and shook my fist because they are doing extensive work in the pool area and they start work super early some days. Monday was one of those days! But while irritated by the early drilling and hammering, I still felt good. Until I didn’t.
It’s a Hard Knock Life for Sick Tanya
I was at the little market by my home when the stomach cramps hit me again. Brief and intense. I ignored them and carried on. Cuz that’s how I roll: I just carry on. While no longer feeling awesome, I didn’t feel barfy warfy either. So genius me decided to grab a coffee in my apartment lobby (they have a Keurig for residents), which took a minute or two that I should have used to walk to my apartment. Because by the time my coffee had brewed, I was in trouble. Big, big trouble.
People, I barely made it to my apartment.
It wasn’t pretty. Nope. Nope. Nope.
I dramatically wailed to Max, my cat. He acted extremely sympathetic and concerned about my welfare, meowing his condolences and offering a tongue bath. Plus a solemn paw swear to be on his best behavior.
Please. He’s a feline. He ignored the hell out of me.
In fact, he was hyper, racing throughout the apartment, pouncing on the bed, jumping on the dressers and even on the very forbidden kitchen counter. When I caught him up there, he did the whole if I don’t move, she can’t see me act.
Oh, I saw you, Max Man. I saw you real good.
I yelled. He jumped down and continued running and meowing loudly from room to room. Finally I grabbed my squirmy, 18 pound troublemaker and made him snuggle with me in bed. He fell asleep for next four hours. I did not.
He rudely ignored my moans and whispered pleas to go to store and get me some 7-up.
Like I said, drama queen.
On the Mend, I Think. Hope. Pray.
Today, (Wednesday morning when I wrote this) I feel better. I’m still nervous and don’t venture far from my apartment. I’m hopeful that my feel good status remains because I am tired of stomach cramps and whining. One of my friends is getting married next Saturday and we’re doing a fun ladies brunch on Sunday that I really want to attend. So I’m being cautiously optimistic and taking a break but will hopefully resume my normal schedule on Monday.
Or be prepared for more dramatic whining. Just being honest!