Nothing to See Here…

So I was all insolent and blase’ and I made a seemingly lighthearted post about my malady on my drive home last night and then what happened?

The God of Puke and Liquipoo smited me and struck me down with ye a much worse attack of the pestilence than I had experienced earlier.

Shame on me for not taking my affliction more seriously.  Now I know that the God of Puke and Liquipoo is all powerful and deserving of all our respect.  Do not TAUNT the God of Puke and Liquipoo!!

I thought what happened in the car was as bad as it could get.  Oh, Internet, I was so wrong.  So very wrong.  I shall spare you the stark details (Too late, you’re thinking, after what I shared last night right here on this blog, right?) 

Around 2AM I realized the error of my ways and I prayed for His forgiveness.  Never again will I fail to give You props, oh God of Puke and Liquipoo.  If only You will make the puking stop, I shall cease with my incessant complaining.  And He who is all powerful DID make the puking stop!  Praise to the God of Puke and Liquipoo!

However, over the next four hours, I did have to rush to the bathroom 983 times for other reasons.  But I’m not complaining.  No, no.  Not me.  I shan’t complain for if I had to go back into negotiations with the God of Puke and Liquipoo, I’m quite sure I’d end up having to watch His kids on Saturday nights while he and the wife have a date night or something.  (Can you imagine the baby wipes they go through at their house??) 

What it boils down to his this:  I put the lamb’s blood on the door and this plague, this curse, this blight - well, it found me anyway.  I’m thinking of scrubbing the lamb’s blood off the door and making a big sign (using quite a severe font!) that says “Please just take me out of my misery.”

My husband left Thursday morning on a business trip.  I told him “I hope you don’t get this.  There is nothing worse than being sick while you’re traveling and away from home.”

He muttered something very macho like “Me strong, like bull.”  I think he meant that he believes himself to be immune to this malady, and I hope that’s true.  Because, Internet, it’s hard enough for me to let him go, knowing he’s a diabetic, knowing there won’t be someone in the bed next to him or a dog to bark if he were to drop into dangerously low blood glucose numbers and pass out.  Travel is hard on the body.  Most people don’t do well eating and drinking the right things when they’re out there.  If you add to that a stomach bug where nothing can be kept in or down, it exacerbates it quite a bit.  I worry for his health and safety.  I worry that if this ailment finds him, he will struggle to maintain an acceptable amount of nourishment and manage to keep his blood sugar levels sane.  And more than anything, I worry that something will happen and he won’t come back to me.  So let’s all hope that ‘Me strong, like bull.’ is accurate and not just ego and this very important trip goes off without a hitch.

And then?

THEN you can feel sorry for me.  Home, stuck home, sick myself, with sick children.  This was supposed to be our girls’ weekend!  We were going to invite the big sisters over, Aunt Jenn-Jenn, the cousins of the girl persuasion.  We were going to watch Grease and Dirty Dancing and braid each other’s hair and paint toenails. 

Now it seems any such plans have been dashed and instead will shall all join arms and wallow in self-pity (all the while giving the appropriate praise to the God of Puke and Liquipoo.)

All Hail….