hunger strike...day 7

I have been back from Vietnam for a week and I am still feeling the effects of the 'Nam's parting gift to moi; a nice big fat stomach bug because nothing says lovin' like e-coli. So, while lying prone on my bed begging for the sweet release of death, I spent the interminable tickety-tock minutes of the day tallying just what I had managed to choke down in the past week and it was a sad little list, in fact, I believe it closely approximates the diet of a small vermin. :

1. toast, 2 slices;
2. ginger cookie;
3. slice of pizza and few mouthfuls of salad (during brief honeymoon period where I actually felt "OK" but shortly thereafter paid the price);
4. rice, 3 tablespoons; and
5. cookie, oatmeal, 1/2;

I haven't counted fluids because if I had stopped drinking, well, I would have been dead last Friday.

Since becoming a SAHM (stay-at-home-malingerer), I have dreaded illness; unlike in the working world, there are no chances for days off spent wrapped in a duvet in front of the tv sipping hot soup and catching up on crummy daytime tv (notwithstanding that we all know that every day of a SAHM's week is actually spent this way, except that I generally eat bonbons, rarely get dressed preferring to spend the day in a negligee, have Baby Girl mix up Margaritas and of course, there is Stripper Tuesdays because I am sure that we are all in agreement that Tuesday is a crappy day that needs sassing up). Let's just say that Baby Girl has no time for sickness; she is all like, "oh, you're sick...poor Mama, let's play chase!" Instead of getting to whimper like an injured animal and over medicate oneself into sleeping for 12 straight hours; I get to play hide and seek, Of course the worst of all illnesses is anything stomach related because those are the ones that are the most difficult to work through. It is possible to be a Mom through head colds, lacerations, loss of non-essential limbs, sore throats, various types of infections and any other non-life threatening illness but nausea; that's a tricky one. This delightful stomach bug was kind enough to alternate between intense bouts of dizziness, sharp abdominal pains and tidal-esque waves of nausea. It's been a veritable smorgasboard of symptoms. So basically, I have been weaving around playgrounds like a drunken sailor looking like I am going to lose my lunch at any moment. No doubt, the other mothers think that I am a hopeless lush.

Although I would love to share, I will not gross you out with the gory details; we've all been here or there before; likely after a night of binge drinking. Additionally, I have not decided how long I am going to let this go on before seeking professional medical attention. Mostly, I just don't have the strength to engage in the inevitable discussion about consistencies and frequencies and no doubt, a battery of icky blood tests that require 6 gallons of blood drawn by a sadistic grump (or god forbid other, more intrusive tests). Of course, there is also the fact that the longer the illness lingers the more I convince myself that I have some incurable, tropical disease whose treatment demands any number of medieval torture techniques, like leeches or being "bled" or having 18 inch needles stuck directly into my abdomen. And then there is the delightful weightloss - it's not like I am in danger of fading away; in fact, it's rather insulting that after seven days of not eating I still look like I just got up from an all-you-can-eat-buffet.

Instead of bitching and moaning about feeling like crap, I would love to share the delightful week in Vietnam but I am just not currently able to see past this lovely little "fuck you". Just as soon as I am once again my chipper self, I am sure that I have many wonderful memories that I will share but until then, I have nothing nice to say and as my mother always says; then I just won't say anything at all...