Wednesday, February 25, 2009
All rumbly in my tumbly
Dear stomach flu/foodbourne illness/whatever parasite I caught eating that sandwich off the floor of the e-coli ward at the hospital:
I am not at all happy that you made me spend all of Sunday night on my bathroom floor, using a towel as a pillow and a robe as a blanket in-between high-pressure barfing that made my stomach hurt so much that I contemplated removing it then and there with a pair of toenail clippers. The whole "chills then sweaty fever-y" stuff was charming too. Even while it was happening, I kept thinking of the scene in "Trainspotting" where Ewan MacGregor is trying to kick the junk, minus the whole dead baby crawling on the ceiling thing. It was charming- even more so at 5:00 in the morning.
I'm not too happy that you made me miss work Monday- a very important day this week as I had some very big things going on at work and really needed to be there. The whole "not being able to get off the couch except when I needed to get to the bathroom in which case I kind of walked/half-dragged my carcass upstairs, only to be so exhausted that I had to rest a bit before venturing back down the stairs and back to the couch, which now has a permanent indent from my sicky ass? Well, that kind of sucked.
I'm also a bit peeved that you tricked me into thinking I was fine to go to work Tuesday, but once I got there you made me so queasy, tired and rumbly-jumbly in my tummy that I was worried that I had accidentally ingested a family of angry ferrets. The whole "not being able to walk 10 feet without sweating, getting so pale that I was nearly invisible and having to use an oxygen tank" was a bit much, don't you think? If I was just going to go home anyways, why send me in in the first place? This was yet another very important day at work for me, and I'm pretty sure my coworkers now resent me and think I was faking it. I will forever be branded with a scarlet "A" for Asshole.
I'm feeling a bit better today, and I'm going to attempt work again. We'll see how it goes.
I will thank you for one thing, Sir Stomach Flu. There was a few times there where I was worried that you were going to bestow the ultimate humiliation on me- one that I managed to avoid even through elementary school and that one time I ate an entire Little Caesar's Pizza myself in college. I thank you for sparing me this shame, though a few times yestarday during my brief stint in the workplace I had my doubts that you had my back.
Dear Stomach flu, I thank you for not making me spontaneously shit my pants. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I owe you one. Also, a small woo! to you for not making me barf all over the conference table yesterday. I and my coworkers thank you. I encourage you to do the same today.
But you still suck, Sir Sicks-a-lot. And I hate you. Good-bye!