*warning* this post may contain information that some may find icky. bodily fluids related to illness are mentioned. you have been warned.
From Wednesday night thru Sunday morning I was either taking care of someone with a stomach bug, or suffering thru it myself.
And probably the most severe one we've ever seen at our house, if you include severity + duration.
To give you an idea, the ELEVEN HOURS of non-stop... ahem, stomach trouble... that I went thru with only short breaks to pass out on the bathroom floor (not an exaggeration), I lost 7 lbs.
That's correct, I lost SEVEN pounds in roughly 11 hours. That was the worst of it, but all the symptoms didn't stop completely for another 24 hours.
Two days of eating normally later, and intentionally trying to re-hydrate, and I'm still down 2 lbs.
Jena (who had it first - stupid preschool) and I are still finding ourselves tiring more quickly than usual, but are otherwise okay.
I'd also like to ask why my child only gets the onset of stomach illnesses in the evening? Why?!? Is it so I can die of a heart attach at a young age because I have spent so much of her childhood in desperate fear of her aspirating on her own vomit?
Seriously. Every single time she has had a vomiting episode, it has started in the evening. We were blessed that her first one wasn't until she was two years old, but I vividly remember the horror of her walking into our bedroom to wake us up covered in vomit, her nighttime snack embedded in her hair, partially dried out.
You see, my child sleeps like a rock. She slept thru it. Visions of what-might-have-been flashed thru my head as I cleaned her up.
Since then, she's had several more (again, totally blaming preschool). Always starting in the evening. And she sleeps thru them. This last time it was early enough in the evening that I knew it was going on, and listened for her, running in to attempt to wake her up enough to position her over "the bucket". And then changing her sheets, because I was inevitably too late to catch it all.
I'm sure some of my anxiety this time is because what happened with my nephew is still relatively fresh. Visions of him in a coma, the doctors telling the family there is no hope... all still fresh. And all because he aspirated on his own vomit.
Because, let's face it, the fact is that whether it's due to a drug overdose, or an illness, the body's reaction is the same. The end result has the potential to be the same.
And it scares the crap outta me.