The house is kind of a shambles, but everyone is feeling better than they did. Phew. *wipes brow*
The Little Prince started us out Saturday with some amazing launching of foodstuffs–i.e., hurling. I thought he was just a little dehydrated and had skipped breakfast, as he’s wont to do unless I’m home and bugging him into eating. A nervous stomach, unfortunately, is genetic for him.
Oh, alas. I was so wrong.
The most amazing thing was the frothing jet of ginger ale. And he even hit the bowl. From three feet away. It was incredible. He was up almost all night, waking to produce bile, his little body wracked. Sunday dawned with a sleepy Little Prince and a very sleepy Mummy, since I was up purt-near all night with him. And then, around about afternoon…the Princess started looking mighty green.
I officially discovered we had a stomach bug. A very short, 24-hour one, but (as Bumble would say) wery wicious.
The bug started out (at least for everyone above fifteen) with a splitting headache that went away after a half-hour, and a mounting sense of unease that finally coalesced in the tummy department. So Sunday afternoon/evening/half the night I was taking care of the poor Princess while she heaved–and heavens, did that scare her, because this wicious little bug brings up everything down to bile and then some. One does not have a choice–it’s coming out, and that’s final.
The DHM remarked on being surprised there was any enamel left on the loo bowl.
So after the Princess was mostly resting comfortably Sunday night, I started feeling Very Uneasy. And so did the Sullen One. Yup, we’d caught the bug.
I don’t think I’ve ever thrown up that hard. I mean, I hate vomiting with a passion, and I try not to. But this was completely beyond my control, and it was hard. We reached bile in a very short time and started digging past it. I used the back bathroom so the Sullen One could use the front one, and thank the gods the Princess was finally asleep and not heaving anymore (except once) because that could have gotten ugly. Bowls by every bedside, and I’m not sure how I kept up with the laundry, except there’s a huge pile of it, obviously clean, that I somehow managed to get done.
Yesterday morning, the DHM remarked it was like the Western Front–bodies everywhere. I slept (kind of) on the beanbag in the living room, with either the Little Prince or the Sullen One draped near me. The Princess was either half in her bed, wholly in her bed, or half in mine. The Little Prince also time-shared in my bed with the DHM, who had a job interview Monday morning so he needed his rest. I hoped he wouldn’t get sick–which he didn’t until after most of Monday.
So yesterday was a feverish jumble of sleeping, getting up to take care of kidling needs (thankfully they had stopped puking, except for the Sullen One) and trying to keep my own stomach from folding in on itself. The Little Prince had largely recovered, and amused himself with several viewings of Looney Tunes cartoons. (I swear, that 4-DVD set was the best buy EVER.) The Princess had little meals all during the day, and about three PM everyone in the house was dead, fast asleep.
The DHM got home about six, and remarked that it was like the Eastern Front this time–bodies everywhere in different uniforms. He managed to get the kids squared away for bed around nine, while the Sullen One and I struggled with fever and lethargy, keeping down small bites of saltine crackers, pudding, and Gatorade. You know it’s a foul sickness when Gatorade starts sounding good, fer Chrissake.
The bug ends with you being so tired you can barely crawl–I don’t know how I got the rubbish out for Tuesday pickup. Of course, His Sullenness and the DHM helped before collapsing.
I was in bed by ten and fast asleep soon thereafter. I don’t remember a thing except hazily waking up this morning while the fever was breaking in a gush of sweat and hearing the DHM having a bit of difficulty in the bathroom. He got hit last with the bug and is even now dosing himself with Gatorade “to give everything color”.
Man, we’re weird.
The two littles are fine as frog’s fur, with the Little Prince back to his auld rambunctious self. The Princess is morning-slow but otherwise chatterboxy as ever. Ye Olde Sullene One got up briefly to make sure the house was still here, and is now safely ensconced back in bed with blanky and kitty, sleeping so deeply I wanted to take a pulse. The DHM is in bed, between visits to the Porcelain Jungle, and seems to be as comfortable as possible, all things considered.
And me? The house is a shambles, I’m two days behind on revisions, crusty with the salt remains of fever-sweat, and profoundly thankful everyone’s all right. I’m still a teensy bit weak and shaky, but I can hold coffee and cereal down. The pre-cleanse I’ll start tonight, since last night was definitely not the time.
Life’s good.
The funniest part of this was the Sullen One, putting a wet washcloth to my forehead and saying with the lunacy of the sleepless and very ill, “It’s probably the spirits asking you if you’re really serious about a five-day fast.”
To which I replied something along the lines of, “F&%k the spirits. I need to go puke.”
Heh. Enlightenment, here I come.
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