I just spent the last 24 hours in the hell of food poisoning. I think it was a slice of pizza I grabbed at the mall on Friday afternoon… funny, because it tasted “fine” but at the time I remember thinking, “Hm. This probably isn’t very fresh…” By 1 in the morning, I was violently vomiting, embracing the porcelain throne, hoping to pass out, if for no other reason than to at least suppress my misery.
By mid-morning on Saturday, I had finally stopped puking, but was so weak and dizzy that I spent all day in bed. I alternately slept (sitting up – nasty acid-reflux) and lay balled up, clutching my abdomen as I was attacked by vicious Braxton-Hicks contractions. This morning I was well enough to venture out of bed, and on seeing me upright and mobile when he woke up, Kenny sweetly asked, “You feelin’ better, Mama?”
I actually felt great… for an hour or so… and Kenny and I made pancakes and bacon to surprise Casey with a Happy Easter breakfast. By the time we got to church, though, I was barely hanging on again.
I’m still not all there; I haven’t been able to eat much and the contractions are still plaguing me. Actually, I feel like I’ve been hit by a freight train.
The only good part of this weekend ailment was that Casey was home to take care of Kenny and Dudley. I truly don’t know what I would have done if he had been at work through all of this. He even took Kenny to a birthday party on Saturday – that’s love! A better part is that Kenny has definitely grown a little closer to Casey over the weekend. Usually he relies on me to do everything, and will often say to Casey, “No, Dadda. Mama’s going to help me!” when Casey tries to step in. But with me completely out of commission (and partially out of consciousness), he was totally dependant on Casey, and I think it did them both a world of good.