day after thanksgiving (hospital part 1)

The very next day after thanksgiving I worked a half day. I came home. I played with my nephew, saw my nephew and sister off to their next holiday location, and took a nap.

When I woke up I had pain in my upper stomach. It was significant. I figured I was paying for my fudge and cake consumption. I had this coming. Fair enough. But soon after I started throwing up. Then I thought maybe it’s something my body just needed to get rid of. Something didn’t sit right. The body is good at detoxing in that way. Just let it run its course out… in whatever direction it chose.

2 hours later I’m still puking and now I’m in cold sweats and too weak to make it to the bathroom. I started out throwing up in the toilet. Rinsing my mouth and blowing my nose in between each episode before returning to my bed. Now I’m puking off the side of my bed into my trash can and wiping my mouth on my sheets… rolling back onto my pillow to try to gather myself for the next violent hurl.

3 hours in… I can’t even think straight enough to find my phone. People shouldn’t live alone. I couldn’t think. Much less type or even see straight enough to text. The pain was increasing with each episode. I’ve lost count. I can’t move except for when I try to aim at the trash can.

4 hours in… The pain continues to increase. I finally know this isn’t just something my body is going to get rid of. There’s nothing left. I’m in need of help. I reach out and relief flooded me when my phone was within just a few grabs away. I call my sister… I’m not sure why. She isn’t even in the state any more. Advice… I need advice. What do I do? But the real question is what could I do. This phone call was already stretching my capabilities. She tells me to hang up and call help right away… did she mention my ex or did I go there instinctively? My next phone call was to my ex husband. All I can muster is “Help”.

He shows up with my brother. (quick reminder: they live together. Also they were about to head out of town for a hunting trip.) They assess me. I’m bad. Very very bad. If I walked into me like that I would’ve loaded up my poor self and gone straight to the ER. But these boys just experienced a stomach virus a week prior. They figured it was the same. So we wait it out some more… I’m in and out of sleep and vomit and pain induced rocking.

6 hours in… I can’t take the pain any longer. This is not passing. This is something else. I tell them in as few syllables as possible that it’s hospital time. They tell me I need to get dressed, but I can’t imagine moving. This commute is already too hard for me. These boys jump right in. They dress me. They carry me. They find my insurance card with the rare grunts I can muster. Somewhere along the way my mom joins the party.

My little brother is my rock star in this moment. He takes care of the front desk and paperwork and whatever else it might take to get me help.

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