Gastro Hell

Last week was terrible. It all began the Saturday before when I woke up and thought that my ill state was a direct result of Friday's activities. I was parched, shaky and sporting a bruise

on my chest

in the shape of a toilet seat.

Uh, yup. That's me. Just a shining example of class.

Anyway, knowing how a day like this might run (no pun intended), I was kicking myself because I had committed to go to the local college football game. This was such a big deal because I happen to live in a town where the population is positively feverish for their team. On game day, the whole area is swallowed up in a sea of car flags, t-shirts, hats and whoopie cushions, all of which bear the team logo. Tickets are hard to come by and they are expensive. I was fortunate enough to be invited to the game by a friend. Trouble was... I felt like roadkill.

Since I had always been taught that a wee bit of the hair of the dog might help out in this type of situation, I promptly had a beer. I couldn't bear the thought of wine so my Shiner Bock was going to have to substitute. It didn't help so I had another. Still no improvement. My stomach was on fire. It gurgled and churned, causing me to break out in a sweat one minute and chills the next. I figured that like most everything else in middle age, hang overs were also personified.

Sunday morning, I woke up to more of the same. It dawned on me that I might have come in contact with some sort of nasty bacteria. I went for a great motorcycle ride with some friends and we had brunch. It ended up being my last meal until Wednesday night.

Monday, I tried to go to work but I was miserable and left around 9:00 am. I went to the doctor and had blood drawn. Tuesday, I lay in my bed nibbling on saltines and making irrational covenants with God: "I promise that if you let me make it through the next hour without going to the bathroom, I will never, ever drop the "f" bomb again."

Well, that didn't fucking work.

It finally occurred to me that things were not as violent when there was nothing in my stomach so I stopped eating altogether.

Wednesday morning my belly was calm and although shaky and light headed, I felt pretty well . I showered and dressed like a normal person. Feeling brave, I had a cup of coffee. Yes, I know. That was just all kinds of stupid. I tried to go to the office again but ended up turning around midway, praying that I made it home in time.

That night, my South African cousin flew into town and all hell broke loose.