We're all taught to share -- share our toys, share our clothes, share our food, share our time, share our love -- but somtimes it's best NOT to share.
Bob's mother will be 89 years old on October 18, and she lives in Raleigh at an assisted living facility where she has her own small apartment. She gets meals provided and the extra help she needs, especially with her medications, and she also has social interaction. She didn't feel good Monday night into early Tuesday morning and called us several times, telling us how awful she felt; she was vomiting, but the nurses on staff were attending to her. However, around 6 AM, the staff called and told us that Mom was insisting on going to the hospital, and they needed Bob's permission to send her there since it wasn't a life-threatening event. She was taken by ambulance to the ER, and we later joined her shortly after 9:30 AM. She was being monitored and hydrated and tests had been performed and labs run to see if there was an underlying serious cause for her vomiting, which stopped once she arrived at the ER. She was extremely grateful for our company, almost crying when we showed up. The doctor told her everything looked normal and that she probably picked up an intestinal virus; she was given water (and she drank a lot of it) and a few crackers, which stayed down, and she was released at 12:15 PM into Bob's care. We put her in our car and took her back to her apartment and got her settled and comfortable before leaving, both of us to go to work. Needless to say, we were both exhausted.
Yesterday while at work, I started having diarrhea in the morning. I had no other issues other than that, but it was pretty severe. When I got off work, I called Bob, and he sounded awful and said he felt awful -- rumbling painful stomach -- and that he was heading home immediately. He got there before I did, and the rest of the evening, he sat and moaned in pain when he wasn't sitting on the toilet. He also felt nauseous. I had some soup and crackers for dinner and munched on some sunflower seeds before going to bed; Bob ate nothing. My diarrhea had slowed down, so I thought I was through with whatever I had. WRONG! Around 2:20 AM, I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep; I didn't feel bad, so I didn't understand why I couldn't return to sleep. Then my stomach started churning, my mouth started watering, and I knew I was going to vomit. It took two false alarms before I actually did, and those sunflower seeds came up with a lot of green bile -- NASTY!
I'm sorry if I'm offending you, but this is life!
After my first false alarm, I dressed in sweats and cuddled on the sofa with my cats. After the second false alarm, I sat in a recliner, my extra-large red plastic bowl close at hand. After my first up-chuck, I laid down on the twin bed in the front room, right around the corner from the other bathroom, and the cats joined me. During this entire time, my Restless Leg Syndrome flared, and my legs were twitching, burning and cramping. What a fun night I had! Oh, and the diarrhea returned, so I was often sitting on the porcelin throne while holding my big red bowl under my chin. I've vomited once more since starting this post, and I can honestly tell you that it's been over 20 years since I've been sick enough to vomit.
Mom still wasn't feeling well yesterday; we'll be calling shortly to see how she's doing. Regardless of how much I love her, I wish she hadn't shared her sickness with us. Those little germs aren't visible and can take a ride on whomever they please; I just wish it hadn't been me!
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