Wednesday, January 04, 2006

Not so enchanted evening: a story of real love

I woke up with the room pitch black. The only thing I was aware of was my head pounding in time with my heart.

I tried to rub my neck and stretch.

The pouding because worse. I tried to sit up and the pounding in my chest awakened the churning of my stomach.

I turned over in bed and swallowed a darvocet with a glass of water and tried to go back to sleep.

Slowly I felt sweat covering my face like cool gossamer silk. It began to bead, becoming more profuse and dripped into my eyes.

I sat up with the knowledge that I had about 3 seconds to find a can, toilet, sink or bathtub.

Falling out of bed blindly I threw up on the floor.

Crawling over it, I surged forward again and threw up on another patch of floor.

This was not going so well.

I attempted to puke silently as to not wake up my boyfriend deep in slumber.

Crawl, crawl, puke, crawl crawl puke.

Finally I made it into the bathrrom. Crying at the sheer nastiness of my condition I literally hugged the toilet bowl in relief.

Snot running from my nose, tears running through my eyes, vomit covering my chest, my knees, my hands.

Again, this was not going so well.

I finally managed to pop the top off my anti-spasmatic meds and take them.

laying sideways on the cold floor for a moment or two I finally felt the waves of nausea subside. I sat up and shucked off my clothes throwing them into a plastic bag.

I sat there in silence.

All at once I heard the recognizable "ssssplurt! sssplurt!" and scrub of a person with paper towls and a sprayer full of carpet cleaner working their way accross the carpet.

I opened my eyes to see my boyfriend leaning over me with a fresh set of pajama's and a glass od "Tummy Tea."

After getting me safetly to bed he lay down next to me and watched me while I passed out.

The next morning he called my boss and told them the whole disgusting tale of our late night afventure. He told him that in no way was I fit to be at work today and he refused to wake me or let me go to work.

I slept.

This is a story that we will tell our family for years to come. Not because it shows the ugly head of my disability or sickness. We will tell it because my best friend, my partner in crime and boyfriend to boot scrubbed my vomit off the floor without being asked.

That, and no other version of dimestore paperback romance novels is the true show of love.

No comments: