The Plague of Death

On Wednesday I got sick.

This morning I woke up feeling better.

There was no coughing. There was no sneezing. There was no vomiting (!!!).

There was just about 36 hours of what can only be described as some form of 21st century dysentery. Or bacterial gastroenteritis. Or the plague of death.

I have never experienced *ahem* Montezuma's Revenge quite like this. I could barely function, let alone parent, unless I was somehow able to do so from my perch on the porcelain throne.

I desperately wanted to go to The Rock Star's dentist appointment yesterday. It was the first and only time during the debacle that I ventured more than twenty feet away from a toilet. Well, except for when the whole shenanigan actually started. At Costco. Isn't that charming? Anyway, concerning the dentist, I carefully mapped out places we could stop along the way if needed. Blessedly, God used the Imodium--which I'd been popping like it was candy--to work wonders and I was granted a short reprieve. That didn't stop my precious firstborn from declaring, at the top of his little lungs, from the dental chair, "Hey Mom, are you havin' to go poop yet?"

Oh. My.

Because it wasn't humbling enough already.

By last night I actually thought I was going to have to go to the E.R. to get some fluids pumped straight into my arm. I wasn't actually sure how this would even be accomplished. Would they just wheel the IV stand straight into the bathroom with me? I wouldn't have needed an actual room, just a stall. I was horrified, imagining that on the prayer chain. Please pray for Pastor Troy's wife. She's in the emergency room with excessive (what word would they choose? I wonder?). I mean, I don't know, that would be almost as bad as, say, blogging about it. It's just that I've already blogged about The Rock Star's airplane poop. And I've blogged about The Little Buddy's road trip poop. In two parts, even. I thought it only fair to blog about my own. That way, when my kids are on the couch begging someone to blame their mother's blog for everything, I can bust in and be all, "I wrote about my own poop, too!"

Anyway, I can finally eat again so yeah for that. I barely ate anything after breakfast on Wednesday and consumed even less yesterday. It only succeeded in making me nauseated and then reappearing again after about two hours. I did spend the majority of the late morning and early afternoon at the pediatrician where it was discovered that Matthew has double ear infections and is also being treated with albuterol for a cough. So now he's medicated and resting comfortably. I wouldn't have been unable to take him if I'd been in a bathroom stall at the hospital getting IV fluids so for that I am singing a chorus of Hallelujahs!

In all seriousness, it was quite something. I was exhausted, depleted, and, eventually, truly concerned. On the bright side, I weighed 113 pounds this morning. For the record, it was so not worth the trouble.