Well it’s been the week from hell … and I’m finally emerging out of the heat just in time to pack and get myself on a plane to Sydney tomorrow for the Aus Blog Conference.
It all started innocently enough, last Wednesday the boy was eating dinner and finalised proceedings with a monster chuck. The kind of vomiting effort that would not be out of place on Little Britain.
It was disgusting, but not entirely a rare occurance for a child. He was otherwise fine. He vomited a bit more, but we kept a close eye on him and even though he vomited again the next day he didn’t have a temperature and was eating fairly normally. We soldiered on.
By Friday, Mr P came home from work not feeling so good. He got straight into bed with the airconditioning on. It wasn’t long until I heard that familiar sound of vomit against plastic bucket. Two down. Just me and the cat standing.
The boy was mostly okay, but was fairly clingy and appeared to be getting four new teeth. So I was starting to feel depleted.
By Sunday night, my stomach started churning. I knew it had claimed me too. I went to bed and hoped against hope that I’d be okay. But at 3am it came. It was too late to make the loo dash. It was plastic bucket time for me too.
This then set the tone for the rest of the week. Monday I called in sick to work and spent the day sleeping and vomiting in equal doses, thankful that the boy was in daycare so I could rest. Then Tuesday, as this week was a deadline week, I felt I had to show up to work to finalise a story. I got through by sipping gatorade and gingerly eating hot chips and gravy – my first meal since Sunday night.
By Wednesday morning I was feeling alot better. I ate breakfast and kept my plans to meet my sister-in-law for a walk at Southbank. BIG MISTAKE! It was hot, my breakfast felt like it was attacking my stomach. I soldiered on. And right at the end of the walk, before I could dash back to my car, I vomited in a garden by the roadside.
It’s the most ill I’ve felt in a long time. But the upside is all my energy has been used to merely survive so I’ve had no time to stress out about the conference and worry if I’ll make friends or make a dick of myself. After spewing in a garden, the only way is up, right?
I better keep packing, I am bound to forget something despite having a list and checking it thrice.