Hey, all you people who said this stomach bug was probably “only a 12-hour thing,” why don’t you come on over to my apartment so I can give you a swift kick to the face for all your lies?
Yeah, that’s right. Hostile Ali!
I’m currently on Day 3 of being quarantined to my apartment and I am bored beyond belief. Luckily, I really don’t mind being sick because I am definitely at my most gorgeous after hours of doing…various things…in the bathroom.
That shockingly stunning photo was taken mere moments after vomit session number three last night. I tried to finally get some food in my stomach, so I went with the old standby of Lipton Noodle Soup, which I promptly proceeded to throw up. It wasn’t good the first time and it was less impressive the second, third and fourth times.
I could talk a lot about vomit right now, but I’ll try to spare you.
Going back to Saturday: After my disastrous and tragic long-run attempt (and subsequent fail), I did some shower puking and then climbed right back into bed. I was miserable, and my temperature got up to 102. Not great. I took Tylenol throughout the day to keep the fever down, and Saturday night I did my very best to get over my illness so I could go to my friend Lauren’s birthday party.
That didn’t go so well. I stayed at the party for about an hour and then came right back home and got into bed. I was miserable.
I woke up yesterday morning and knew the day was going to be spent in bed. I had a fever again and I was perhaps the weakest I’ve ever felt. I knew I should drink a lot of water — “hydrate,” you all keep telling me — but the thought of walking a whopping 12 feet to the kitchen seemed like too great of an effort.
I sat in my bed doing absolutely nothing for three hours. I stared at the wall and read for a bit, and eventually made my way over to the couch, at which time I watched TV and learned a few lessons:
- If you watch Love Actually and also the Emily-centric episodes of “Friends” during the day, you will think in a British accent for the rest of the evening. Don’t try to do your British accent out loud, though. It’s much, much more eloquent in your head.
- There is an even longer version of the Sex and the City movie that exists, and that is the version they choose to show on television. It’s wretched. The fashion montagey scenes are even longer and it’s just kind of painful. No, Miranda, you do not look good in that weird leopard suit. I also don’t believe that Miranda would ever fit into Carrie’s clothes, but sure, let’s go with it for the sake of a now four-hour film.
- The saddest time of day is when the “Beverly Hills 90210” block ends on SoapNet and they transition over to “Gilmore Girls.”
Yesterday was really the first time in my life (except for maybe when I got mono for my 16th birthday) that I can remember feeling completely bedridden. When I get Crohn’s sick, I can still function pretty decently. I can still run, even if it requires making lots of pit stops, and I can still do hugely important life tasks, like responding to emails.
But not yesterday. I couldn’t do a dang thing. I couldn’t muster up the energy to walk to the kitchen (keep in mind I live in a studio apartment that is roughly the size of a shoebox), I couldn’t stand the thought of doing anything productive and I spent the entire day being horizontal.
And when I wasn’t horizontal, I was in the bathroom, where things were happening that weren’t pleasant. All kinds of things. Google “stomach flu symptoms” and read about them and just mentally check off every single one of those on the list of “Things Ali Has.”
Brian had to work all day yesterday, and I fully admit that when I’m sick, I do not like to take care of myself. So I had a really wonderful pity party via text message with my always-understanding mom.
I am 26 years old, and when I am sick, I want my mom. Call me pathetic, call me ridiculous, but nothing is better than a nice lady named “Mom” putting a cold washcloth on your forehead to make you feel better.
Brian came over around 11 last night, and I was still awake because I was doing this fun thing called “sweat out your fever and roll around in your sweat puddles.” It’s hard to sleep when your body is working so hard!
I finally fell asleep around midnight, but woke back up again frequently. Not my best night’s sleep, and now I’m home sick from work, which I’m not pleased about.
I got a very kind email from Coach Cane last night. Perhaps he saw my Tweets of Sadness all day:
He said not to worry about running or missing my training runs and that “we’ll be fine.” I read his email and realized that I hadn’t even thought about running all day. WHO AM I?
Normally if I have a sore throat or stuffy nose or sore tricep, I still get out running. Until this week, I had never missed a training run in my life, and in most scenarios I’d go crazy about one teeny tiny setback. But over the weekend, I was ill enough not to even contemplate running.
And now I present you with five signs I know I’m really sick:
- I don’t make my bed. It never got made yesterday because I kept moving from the bed to the couch. This is crazy. I always make my bed.
- I don’t care about running. Also crazy. I always care about running.
- I don’t do my sit-ups. Every morning of my life starts with 200 little crunches, and yesterday I didn’t even try.
- I don’t have an appetite. My name is Ali, and my favorite thing is food. All kinds of food. Yesterday, the mere sight of a picture of food make me bolt for the bathroom. I choked down about eight Saltines over the course of the day, and then that dreaded soup dinner that didn’t go so well.
- I actually spend the day laying down, and not attempting to be productive. Most times I’ve taken sick days, I rest and lounge around my apartment, but I also try to get things done, like cleaning out my closet or doing dishes or unpacking from that trip I went on four days ago. Not happening today. Not at all.
I’m not whining, I promise. As much as it sucks to be sick, maybe this little break has been good for me. I’ve been going going going going going nonstop for um, ever? So maybe a few days of laying in bed, as painfully boring as it can be, is what the doctor-I-didn’t-bother-calling ordered.
And do you know what perks me up a little? I was nominated by FITNESS Magazine as a “Most Inspiring Blogger,” which is cool because I agree that my stories about what happens in the bathroom are very inspiring!
Seriously though, I’m incredibly honored by the nomination, and if you’re so inclined to check out the website and cast your vote (you have to enter your name and an email address to vote, but it only takes about two seconds), I would appreciate it and probably get cured of the flu.
I’m off to do nothing but sleep and drink water and perhaps eat a meal of Saltines.
Have a great day, everyone. Stay healthy!
AND A SIMPLE TASK FOR YOU: Tell me something good. Please. Maybe a joke? Or perhaps share the best part of your weekend? Anything “good” will make me smile, and I like smile, and puke doesn’t make me smile.