Making it Through the Night
Somewhere in the middle of the night came what I feared… the dreadful vomit.
I seldom get sick. I’ve got a cast-iron stomach, but when I do get sick, I get really sick. Well, it hit somewhere in the middle of the night and I completely purged. It seemed like there was more stuff coming out than what had gone in. I am sick.
After returning to bed, then started to feel parched, but I didn’t want to drink the tap water because it smelled like fish. (Yeah… this flu has increased my sense of smell and the tap water here smells like a fish tank.) So, I laid in bed craving a tall cup of ice drenched with diet 7-Up or Sprite.
It was all I could do to make it through the night was to think about that cold cup of iced lemon-lime soda. When the morning came, the first thing I did was to ask Spencer to take me to a local convenience store. He kindly did, and they had just what I craved. It felt pretty good going down, however, it just seemed to sit there.
We came back to the house, got things packed up, and Spencer took us to the airport. Elizabethe’s feeling better, but I’m teetering on tossing my cookies any minute. This is not the feeling you want to have when flying.
When we got to the airport, it was raining so hard the ground looked like a sheet of fog. The water was bouncing off the ground with such force, it was this white haze.
We dragged ourselves to our gate to learn our flight was delayed.
To sooth my stomach I purchased some mint Mentos and some tums. After sucking on those (and they did sooth my stomach) I was thirsty so I bought a soda.
“Was this a mistake,” I thought, “mixing soda and Mentos in an already sour stomach?”
This conjured up sick thoughts of projectile vomiting. I think I’ll just sip the soda and suck on the ice cubes.
We finally got on our flight. As we went from Houston to Philadelphia we hit turbulence. Heavy turbulence. Oh, boy. It was not fun.
Have you ever looked at a barf bag on a plane?
I never thought about it until now. As I said, I have an iron gut. But, after last night I am looking at this bag thinking if I lose it, this bag isn’t going to hold half of it. How do you put a quart of liquid in a paper bag that might, at best, hold a pint?
Time for Plan B.
Okay, if I barf, there is no way this tiny little barf bag will do the trick. And, there is absolutely nothing in my stomach except liquid. How will this paper hold up?
So, I made my way to the bathroom. Seriously? How can anyone get sick in that tiny closet. There’s no way to face the toilet and get your head close to the bowl. Oh, boy, I better not get sick on this flight. I guess I could sit on the toilet and hang my head in that little bowl they call a sink. Even then, I’d end up making a real mess out of this place.
Making my way back to my seat I found myself hoping I’d have to do neither.
We soon found ourselves on the ground in Philly. Even airport bathrooms are not places to be sick. I almost asked the housekeeper as she walked by with her large yellow cart, “Hey, if I’m going to be sick, where would you prefer I do it?” I mean, bathroom stalls aren’t built for it, definitely not the urinals, and most public bathroom sinks are in the open where others would most likely have a bad time with it.
To top things off, they don’t make it very flexible. Most air travel is non-refundable which kind of forces people to travel, even when they are ill, as long as they can walk on the plane. It makes me wonder if that extreme heat in the plane on our way to Houston might have been a breeding ground for some airborne virus that made us sick. Who knows?
Only one more leg of this trip and we’re done.
Our flight from Philly to Rochester was also without event, but also very turbulent. It was so nice to get in our car and drive home.
If you’re going to be sick, there’s no place like home.