Chicks have guys to hold their hair back. But what do guys have when we are bald and vomiting uncontrollably at 3am? I found out this weekend. A soothing backrub!
Sunday was L’s brother’s wedding in Yosemite Park in California (thought it was in Utah 3 months ago). It was absolutely amazing (more on this in a later post). One of the adventures of the wedding was a bus ride from 5000 feet to the second highest peak in the park at about 7000 ft I would say (wild guesses obviously). Then promptly down to the valley of the mountain for scrumptious food and delicious drinks. 3 hours later we hightailed it back up to 5000 feet.
Somewhere along this journey, my stomach put its foot down and decided that it wasn’t going to do anymore work. So there sat wine, champagne, gin, tequila (what a troublemaker), crab stuffed mushrooms, chive crusted halibut (OMG so good!), shrimp, prosciutto, and teriyaki beef. All of these characters stood in the middle of my stomach’s wrestling ring. Jawing at each other like rick flair and sting back in ’88 (whoo!)
Then someone made a wrong move and the royal rumble began with a chop to the throat. At about 1am I felt the first few stomach somersaults off of the top rope and knew something was up. I sat up in the bed and looked at L.
“I think I’m going to throw up”
I took off down the stairs just as the royal rumble reached its peak. A few minutes (and a few flushes) later, the match was over. I definitely didn’t feel like a winner.
I trekked back upstairs after hitting every nook and cranny of my mouth with some listeriiiiiine only to find L dead asleep. I (apparently layed isn’t a word, but that’s what I did. Maybe I lied) layed lied and for exactly 70 minutes. DING, round two. Full sprint back downstairs!
Flush. Spit. Flush. Listeriiiiiiiiiiiine. Rinse. Back to bed.
70 minutes later round three!
Sprint. Slide on knees to toilet. Dry heave. Flush. Spit. Flush. Listriiiiiiiiine. Rinse. Back to bed.
I wake up again 60 minutes later with a false alarm (the fear was very real though!) And when I climb back into bed L says “Are you OK?”
“I keep throwing up”
She jumps up and goes down to get me Advil because I’m freezing cold and we think I have a fever. I take two pills and two sips of water….and….
I come out of the bathroom to L’s mom (a nurse) who gives me the once over an determines its most likely food poisoning (roofies would have been a cooler story). I slump back upstairs knowing that I have a 5 hour car ride and a 2 hr flight to Arizona (yes the 108 degree Arizona) in less than 3 hours.
I lie down feeling miserable and suddenly I feel L rubbing my back. She rubbed my (sappy, I know). My stomach hurt still but the pain was bearable. My lovely fiancee had rubbed my illness away.
That in of itself is a great reason to get married. If you can lock down a woman that can stop vomiting with her bare hands, you take that everytime!