Should you be prone to Squeemish, you might want to skip this one. You know how I live for a good vomit story. Consider yourself warned.
Since we all spent Thanksgiving quaranteened because of the plague, we thought we’d continue the tradition and contract a stomach flu the week of Christmas.
Which is awesome timing, really.
The trouble began last Friday, when we were to depart from Fort Wilderness at WDW. Jensen woke up puking at about 4:30 am. And it continued while we packed up and for the entire 75 minute ride home.
We had taken the middle seats out of the van to accomodate ALL THE CRAP that one needs for camping for 5 people for 5 days.
And since you know that I’m not a fan of camping, you also know that we stayed in a cabin that had running water, AC and heating, a dishwasher, microwave, full fridge, stove, and most importantly a coffee maker.
Oh. And internet connection.
Anyhoo. Jensen had to endure the ride home in the back seat sandwiched between two sisters. Who are not fond of vomit. And the two sisters had to administer aid to a little brother by holding the throw up bucket (a rubber maid container that could be sealed for freshness), and handing out wet wipes to clean a small boy’s mouth when finished.
He threw up the entire way home.
The girls rose to the challenge, and other than turning green, they did a fabulous job.
A Christmas miracle.
We thought he had contracted food poisoning. Until I threw up that night. But I seemed to be okay on Saturday, and chalked it up to a sympathy vomit.
But by Saturday night, I was happily chirping on Twitter with my Tweeps, and I suddenly felt immediately ill. I signed out, and that was all she wrote.
I was sick all night.
And because misery loves company, Cailey came into our room at 4 am announcing that she threw up in her bed.
She lives on the top bunk.
She was covered from the top of her strawberry blonde head to the tips of her fairy pajamas. This was a two parent job, so I rose to the occasion and got Cailey into the bath, while Fiddledaddy took care of the top bunk.
I didn’t even want to know what THAT was like. I do know that Fiddledaddy got acquainted with Mr. Washing Machine in a hurry.
Since Cailey has a twin sized sleep number bed, and it is light, Fiddledaddy set it up in the family room for her. It is much easier to vomit over the side if you are closer to the ground. And you don’t have to worry about hitting an older sister who sleeps below you. Just sayin’.
She then threw up all the next day. Sunday was a bad bad day in the House of Fiddle. Fiddledaddy was our primary care giver, and when he started to feel ill, drastic measures were called for.
He loaded us all into the van and we headed for the Urgent Care facility. They know us my name. My sweet SIL met us there, and kept Jensen and Emme in their van to watch a movie. Emme kept everyone entertained with vomit stories until Jensen announced that he wasn’t feeling good, so the vomit stories had to come to an ubrupt end.
We were diagnosed with a stomach virus, and had to ride it out. Shoot me. Literally. When the doctor offered me a shot of something that would bring about a merciful end to the nausea, I leaped up and dropped my drawers.
This is important because I am not a fan of The Needle. My father loves to tell the story of how it once took one doctor, three nurses, and two exasperated parents to hold me down for a shot.
Cailey wanted nothing to do with the shot. And she’s even more strong willed than I EVER was, so the parents didn’t have the strength to restrain her.
WE’LL TAKE THE SUPPOSITORY FOR THAT CHILD. (Sometimes revenge is sweet.)
By nightfall, Fiddledaddy was in full STOMACH FLU mode, and I was loopy from the shot. It’s a wonder we made it through the night. Oh, and Jensen threw up once more for good measure. I suspect he was reliving Emme’s vomit stories from earlier in the day.
I haven’t even seen Fiddledaddy yet this morning. He hasn’t emerged from the infirmary our room yet. Not a good sign.
I’m actually able to lift my arms to the keyboard, so I think I’ve turned a corner.
And the children are bickering and threatening to vomit on one another as a new fun means of torture, so I think they’re on the mend.
On the bright side, Christmas is a time for celebrating the birth of Christ. And family togetherness. And this family is all about TOGETHERNESS this week.
The Stomach Flu, it is the gift that keeps on giving.