So, Sunday night, A. felt sick. Like a "rock in my stomach," he said. Monday he was sicker. More crampy, more bathroom-y. Completely out of commission. And yesterday he went back to work.
Monday night, I came home from my Board meeting and threw up. I thought it was because I ate all those damned cheeses and triscuits. But it kept happening, and then I felt like... oh, I don't know, like I had a rock in my stomach? And did I mention the cramping?
And let me say now that I married a fine and compassionate human being, and that I am publicly sorry for not taking his illness more seriously.
So yesterday, I stayed home from work, occasionally writhing around in pain and spending a lot of time in the bathroom.
And today was to be my first day of intern clinic at school. I got up, got dressed, got Bird off to daycare, tried to eat some crackers, got my stuff all together, and realized there was no way in hell I could give a massage today. Even if I could stay in the same room for a full hour without racing to the bathroom, even with the aid of Immodium, I still haven't eaten anything since those damned Triscuits and cheese Monday afternoon and my arms feel like spaghetti.
So I sat on the couch and weighed the options, tried to gauge my physical state and figure out a way to make it work. Because if you don't go to intern clinic when you're supposed to, it really fucks things up and makes it hard on the people running the thing, who also happen to be the people assigning the grades, and who also happen to be very kind people that I'd like to not inconvenience in this way.
But in the end there was no way I could go. I felt impending doom and inevitable emergency. I envisioned embarrassing scenarios. I called in. And I feel rotten in general and rotten for calling in. Because no matter how sincere I am, I always feel like such a flake when these things happen. And on my first day, no less.
And now? About an hour since I called to cancel because I felt like I might shit my pants or vomit or both, I feel like I could do neither-- just a little groggy but digestively patched up, probably thanks to the Immodium. How nice, no? I mean, things could definitely turn south at any moment, and at this point I am sort of hoping they do, so I can feel at least a little bit okay about shirking my responsibilities. Because if I end up being fine for the rest of the day? I'll just feel like an ass.