This morning I woke up around four a.m. - feeling very sick. The first few trips to the bathroom took care of ridding my body of everything I’d eaten that had already left my stomach. It was during the fourth or fifth trip that the contents of my stomach made their exit. There really are few things in life that are more gross and exhausting than throwing up. I do it maybe once - sometimes twice - a year. My stomach has always been sensitive. RT thinks there’s something terribly wrong with me. What he doesn’t understand is that I’ve always been this way. RT and I ate all three meals together yesterday. I didn’t eat anything that he didn’t also eat. And he slept great all night and woke up feeling great. My stomach just decided it was going to go on strike, and, to my dismay and lack of sleep, it did.
So I’m staying home from work today. Around 11:00 this morning I decided that I felt enough better than I could try eating a little food. And absolutely nothing appealed to me except my standard-first-meal-after-being-sick menu: a poached egg on dry whole wheat toast sprinkled with a little grated cheddar cheese. I have no idea why that has become my standard, but it never fails to help me recover after being sick. So I prepared it, and it was delicious - mild, but filling - and with enough protein and carbohydrates to help me sleep off the last of my queasiness.