This weekend was one of those times.
And, it is not over.
Look, I am not one to complain too much but as I write this, my stomach continues to churn, cramp and burn.
I want the misery to end.
It may sound like a lot of whining and ridiculous amounts of exaggeration, but take it from a girl who is used to pain and misery, this is hell.
I had heard of this Norovirus in relation to cruise ships (aka, floating petri dishes) and something about miserable passengers at sea, swaying back…and forth…with the waves, wanting to jump overboard to end their torment.
I get it now.
I wanted to jump over-board from my son’s bedroom window and let the Earth swallow me whole (Happy Earth Day, yay, me). I have been hiding in his room ( he’s at College) since this wretchedness began on Sunday, to reduce the spreading of this violent and eager to multiply, parasite.
My daughter was the first victim. We spent all Saturday evening tending to her as waves of misery took control of her tiny body. She had nothing left in her. Dehydrated and weak. By Monday morning, she looked half human half vampire with no trace of fluids in her body.
I did not know it was possible for even my eyelids to hurt. My stomach was an inferno, I had difficulty breathing, and the nausea consumed my every pore. Chills, sweats, dizziness, violent heaves, fainting episodes, body aches and more nausea.
Our neighbors had warned us. They had barely survived the virus and had pleaded that we not to go near them. We didn’t. It didn’t matter.
My poor husband is now cursed with this and what’s worse is that I can barely help him. I am still weak and cannot keep anything down, including my RA meds which I desperately need to function and the gross blue Gatorade my daughter got me.
He has a fever and I am supposed to stay away because I need to avoid fevers on account of having no spleen. Sigh. We are all sleeping in separate bedrooms and trying to weather the storm on our own. My daughter can help now, thank goodness.
It is day 3 and my body is still rejecting it all.
Tomorrow, I will call the doctor if my symptoms have not improved.
They say misery loves company, so I thought I would turn to my internet friends (who are the only people I can’t infect), to keep me company. I appreciate you listening to me as I lay here alone praying that this thing leaves our home for good.
My advice to you all, is to wash your hands 24/7 for the rest of your lives and beyond. Even in the afterlife, you should continue to wash your hands.