Man, Am I Sick...Warning: The following reads like something out of "Tropic of Cancer"...
Last night I was feverish and not feeling good, but that still didn't stop me from chowing down on a plate of steak. Within minutes I was emptying every square centimeter of that steak through my mouth and nose into the commode. My daughter, whose first menstrual period was yesterday, was taking a bath at the time and peeked through the curtain to watch me. Her facial expression was a mixture of amusement of revulsion. I remember thinking at the time that at least I should show that regurgitating is something to be endured, not feared - it always scared me when I was a kid, but to an adult it is not scary so much as uncomfortable.
The rest of the night was a sleepless one, running to the bathroom every twenty minutes or so. In the morning I took my wife to work and made it to work myself, only to leave after an hour, most of which I spent in the bathroom or hopelessly dizzy at my desk, unable to concentrate. I went home and slept like a stone, my cats Cathy and Violet curled up against my leg. That's one of the things that are great about pets - they know when one is ill and try to do what they can to male one feel loved and comfortable.
I don't know how I made it out to Allisyn's work today to pick her up. I must've looked like a ghost when I got there, as the first thing she asked was "Do you want me to drive?" I went straight back to bed and slept until "Jeopardy." I haven't had anything to eat since I took ill, and just managed to feel well enough to keep down a glass of apple juice. Oh, for the simple joy of a peanut butter sandwich right now, but I dare not as it still won't stay down.
My mother reads this thing sometimes and I don't want her to worry - it's just a typical, though exceptionally violent, bout of stomach flu and I should be better by this time tomorrow. But if you are expecting to hear from me on some matter, this is why I'm out of touch.
Uncle Dave