The Way You Once Were

Any time I'm sick, I try to make a mental snapshot of how I feel (quietly saying to myself, remember how this feels, REMEMBER), so that when I feel better I can look back on that moment, recall said snapshot, and appreciate being well. It never works, of course, until I get sick again and find myself muttering "remember!" on the bathroom floor through a nose full of stomach acid and snot.

I don't know how it happened, but I feel awful, fever, chills, the works. I'm leaky at both ends, if you get my meaning, and the worst part is that I made it through class just fine, the stomach only beginning to churn like a drop of lemon in a glass of milk by mid-class. I came home and felt the pile of oatmeal, yogurt, and coffee sitting in my stomach, demanding to be released, and it was a boring mid-day of the fever rising and just waiting for the sick to come.

And then the vomit burst forth, flowing like obscure words in a long-winded dam metaphor, and I felt a bit better, but here I am at 8:30, feverish, chilly, stomach ready to evacuate again, unable to go an hour without having to run to the bathroom. I sat down to write this blog about something else entirely, but here I am drolling on about being sick, and suddenly I don't want to write anymore. So that's that.