In response to a question
The first thing I remember is pain, a hard knot in my stomach. I am perhaps three years old and it is bedtime and my parents are putting me into the upper bunk bed to sleep with my sister. Her warmth is supposed to comfort me but it is a poor palliative and soon I am standing in the doorway of their bedroom and instead of words to tell them I am ill there is vomit.
And they dash me down the hall to the bathroom and I see the floor swirl by and I can’t be a good girl I can’t hold back and my body is betraying me by heaving, hurting, my parents yelping and irritated by the mess of me.
posted by ttractor @ 8:31 PM
1 Comments:
I remember nights like this one--the time I got a bad chicken mcnugget and threw up seven times in one night, the times I trailed a way to the bathroom. I got sick to my stomach for the first time in *years* a couple of years ago, and I was startled by how scared I was. Not disgusted or annoyed, but absolutely terrified by what it felt like and by how I didn't know why it was happening. Isn't that strange? Maybe not--somehow, I made it all the way through graduate school without throwing up once, which was handy since my bedroom was all the way on the other side of my apartment from my bathroom. I suppose I'd forgotten the sensation altogether.
When I talked to my dad the next day and told him what had happened, he said, "Just relax! That's what you have to do if you're getting sick. Don't fight back against it." And strangely, that has worked. And I had it as a piece of advice to offer when my childhood best friend got sick at her own wedding reception. So, good all around?
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