Sick

Spent the whole night laying perfectly still while the room spun, trying to convince my body that the tummy bug wouldn't get me, when really, it already had. Glad that night's over! And glad it's a quickie, this bug. Ira had it last week and it was a 24 hour thing, thank goodness. I never, ever throw up, don't know why, just never have. I think I can talk myself out of it. I'm terrified of vomiting, it sounds so violent when other people do, I can't even listen...it's one of my worst phobias, although my father claims throwing up actually makes you feel better. I don't believe it. No way. It sounds like hell. He once gave me a tiny shot of brandy as a small child when Mom was out shopping because I couldn't throw up whatever was making me sick. It worked that time, but not since. I think that's possibly my first memory: being three or four and barfing all down the unfinished, rough-wood stairs of our Hartland house, while Dad looks on as if his plan had backfired somehow. Ha. That's what you get Pops.

Oddly, I can sit right there and hold my kids when they're sick, but the thought of someone else, well, I get shivers down my spine thinking of it. Poor Ira, he was mostly in my bed for the duration of his pukes, with his little bucket, but at one point he decided to go sit by the toilet for about an hour. He said it felt nice and cool, poor Bub. Luckily I had just given it a good scrub. Anyhow, knock on wood, we're on the mend. January thaw's over and now it's back to winter...skiing, skating, sledding, snowshoeing and all that jazz.