As I recount this story from two years ago, I do so without going back to reread what I felt two years ago. I think it is important for me to reflect on where I was from my perspective of today.
Anyone who is interested in going back two years ago into this blog is certainly welcome to do so. I’m sure that I will go back to see the difference in me from year to year.
Do I tell the story the same way? Are the details the same? Or do we forget some things as we continue to live beyond them? I can only tell you this…
I am grateful to still be here to share it with you.
I know that being so open with some people is not always comfortable. But I share my story in the spirit of humanness that we so often forget we need to be.
We are all in this war together, Folks. That war is…
(Original post on 4/13/2014 as Two Years: The Following Two Days, Part 2)
It was Saturday April 14th, 2012. When I woke up the following morning, I did not feel much better. I felt as if Friday, the 13th had taken its toll on me. It was is I had lived through the worst part of a bad nightmare, but that the nightmare was not yet over.
I stayed in bed most of Saturday just to see if I could kick this feeling. I was able to keep some water and chicken broth down. The pain in the left side of my gut was still bothering me, though not quite as bad.
I still did not go to the emergency room, convinced that whatever it was would pass as it had done a couple of times before. And based on the violent, projectile vomiting the day before I was even more certain that I had experienced food poisoning.
I slept fitfully on Saturday, going back and forth to the bathroom, not sure what end was up.
On Sunday, I struggled with whether or not to call my boss and give up the workshop. I tried to rest, thinking I would try to make the trip to Wichita on Tuesday morning.
I do not like to miss work. Not only is that the work ethic that is important to me, I am also a consultant for these workshops. I do not have sick days or vacation. The bottom line: If I do not work, I do not get paid. I work part-time so all my hours are vital to my livelihood.
Later that evening, I drove to my local Walgreens to pick up some more 7-Up to settle my stomach and get sugar in my system. I had not felt so weak in a long time. I also picked up some Pepto-Bismal to try to reduce the nausea and control the other symptoms that presented themselves with all my intestinal issues.
It was about 7 p.m. and when I came out of the store to my car, I felt the wave come over me again, and the little bit of water and 7-Up I had drunk that day, I had no control over. I threw up in the parking lot in front of others.
I was was mortified. To be human and have been so ill in public was most embarrassing. No one even asked if I was alright or if they could assist. I am not convinced I would have accepted any help from a Good Samaritan.
What I was feeling about people’s thoughts of me quickly left me. I knew that I was not going to make the Wichita trip. I called my boss. I left a message on her voice mail, frantic for her to phone me back.
I also called my friend who was worried about me. He is an accountant and the following day was tax day, as well as his birthday. I told him I was backing out of the business trip and the next day, would not be able to take him to dinner to celebrate his birthday or the end of tax season.
My manager called me back rather quickly and was quite sympathetic. I was still sitting in my car in the parking lot when she called. I felt nearly unable to move, fearing that I would become ill again. I apologized over-and-over again for putting her in a situation where she had to find someone at the last minute to cover for me. But as bad as i felt, I knew I had made the right decision. I told her that I would touch base with her the next day, so that we figure out how to transfer the plane and hotel reservations over to whomever she was able to find.
I drove home the few miles to my apartment and crawled into bed. If I did not feel better the next day, I would drive myself to the Army Hospital and go to the emergency room.
I never dreamed what the next 36 hours would hold in store…
***To be continued***
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