Friday, January 11, 2013

Hello Again: To the World of the Living I Am Returning

My Aunt Jillian temporarily took over my blog to announce that I was suffering from a gastro-intestinal ailment.  She was euphemizing, minimizing, putting a positive spin on things, or otherwise  vastly underrating the gravity of my condition. The medical community would have, and did, agree with her assessment of the situation. No doctor considered my condition especially critical. I, on the other  would gladly have moved along to that great gymnasium in the sky, where one need not fear injury after a fall from an apparatus of any height because what little gravity exists there would not pull a person to the floor, the ground, the daisies, or whatever surface covers the place, at a strong enough rate for injury to occur, rather than face another bout with this particular brand of gastritis, stomach flu, or whatever it is properly called by the person in or from Hell who invented it.

On a more serious note, I'm well aware that I was nowhere near death.  On the other hand, most of you can relate to that otherwise indescribable feeling of sickness, initiated with hours of lying absolutely motionless in bed,  hoping to ward off the worse-than-death feeling by remaining sufficiently still that the Destroying Angel already thinks you're dead, followed by intestinal cramping and diarrhea so intense that remaining motionless is no longer an option unless one wishes HAZMAT to become involved in the situation, and the feeling -- though diarrhea is imminent,  or may just have happened, that what must be holding it up at present  must be a major twist of the colon or ileum along some crucial junction, when it becomes equally apparent that one's upper abdominal tract is in every but as much as trouble as is one's intestinal tract. If one is fortunate, a bathroom rubbish tin is within reach, so that one may have receptacles as each oracle (including the nose) violently spews forth.   I understand that you've heard far more than you wanted or needed to hear, but  I know of no better way to explain that peculiar feeling that immediate death would be preferable to what one is just about to experience. Most of you have probably been there before, and most of you will relate.

Now I'm merely left with the residual weakness, dehydration and skin discoloration that makes me resemble a member of the Addams Family or the Munsters (except Marilyn, whose skin tone bears no resemblance to mine today). My Uncle Jerry says that if I keep enough fluids down, by tomorrow, I may merely look like a sunken-eyed, alabaster ghost, as opposed to a ghost whose tinting more closely resembles a shade of North Atlantic green. I have an IV, so if all my drugs work, I'll make it to the new and preferred stage tomorrow.

My Uncle Jerry says he's sending off an alert to my gymnastics professor that I am not cleared for any exercise that takes place above floor level. My balance bean\m routine will have to wait a couple of days.

Thanks to everyone who offered get well wishes. I SHALL return, and with a vengeance. For now, though, I'm going back to bed.

Bon soir


  1. Glad to read your words, sending healing thoughts. :))

  2. I hope you're up and around soon. I have a new puppy dog who has graced my blog!