Norrundon'twalk
On this day I came down with a bout of Norwalk virus or something similar. One of those deceptive little names (I imagine a "Doctor Norwalk" out there somewhere, somewhen) that glosses over the fact that you body insists on simultaneous diahrea and vomiting. It started at around 15:00 and was bad enough that I fetched up in the hospital by about 20:00, where I went on a saline drip with a fever of 38 degrees.
The doctor was of the iron-man variety, prescribiing a simple saline that contained none of the helpful variations like anti-nausea and anti-diahrrea drugs. Well, the last laugh was on him, because he kept me in the room with him and I vomited at lengt no fewer than three times in that hour. Twice through gritted teeth trying not to spray vomit everywhere across his neat white room.
I have to wonder who invented those little kidney-shaped barf pans they have in hospitals? I assume that they have never listened to the nurses and orderlies who have to clean up after their use.
Then again, they probably shouldn't speak to the nurse who "came to my assistance" when I started vomitting the last time. It happened when we were leaving (Mari stayed by my side the whole time). I'd already mapped out all of the potential vomit recepticles in the room (I suspect I'm not the only migraineur/frequent-vomiter to do this when feeling unwell) and lunged for a wide sink that I'd more or less known would be making the acquaintance of whatever I was by now heaving up. She responded with a commotion and shoved a plastic bag in front of my face rather than have my sully her pristine sink. And by this I mean she smeared the thing across my face mid-stream, giving me the chance to relive having vomit in my eye.
That doctor was funny. Despite his iron man approach and my inability to understand his language, I could hear the concern creeping in about the second time I started heaving away for minutes on end. Pah! Noobs.
That night was not fun. For anybody. I more or less collapsed in the futon that would give me the clearest runway to the toilet, and Mari left a bowl by my head. During my semi-dilerious night I seem to recall using the thing twice, both while she was nursing Ken.
