|This isn't a real person barfing. Someone positioned Barbie in a barf-like pose. I'm not nearly so glamorous when I throw up.|
I was kicked out of lecture this morning for repeatedly barfing. I obviously didn't throw up in the auditorium, but one time i didn't make it to the bathroom and had to use the trash receptacle in the hallway. I'd love to think the professor was concerned about me personally, but we all know she was worried about contracting whatever it was that was making me barf. C'est la vie.
The professor initially thought that I was hung over, but a few people clued her in to the fact that such was somewhere between highly unlikely and impossible.
When I re-entered the auditorium after either my fifth or sixth barfing episode, the prof asked me if I had done the assigned reading. i told her yes. She asked if i understood everything in the material I had covered. I answered yes to that as well. She then told me to leave. My brother had to leave as well, because no one though I should drive myself because I passed out after one one my barfing episodes. The professor told Matthew to stay home as well because I shouldn't be alone, and that i should go to the health center. I didn't go to the health center because my dad is only about an hour away. Matthew called him, and he's coming. My suspicion is that the prof told Matthew to stay home because she was concerned he might be incubating whatever it is that I have and didn't want to catch it from him, either.
While my dad is here, he'll probably do my laundry, so my days as a Goth are numbered. My dad knows how to do laundry properly, so I trust him with my clothing.
I don't feel good enough to watch TV or play the piano, so I'm going to bed. I probably shouldn't have taken the time to type this post, but it temporarily distracted me from just how terrible I feel.
Matthew will bother me for awhile about the material that is being covered, but I can answer most of his questions in my sleep, and my dad will be here soon enough to answer his questions so I don't have to be bothered.
At least it's not appendicitis, as my appendix was removed a few years ago. So was my gall bladder. I'm running out of organs that can be remove without killing me.
My corneal laceration is killing me because i felt too sick to get up during the night and put ointment in it. when my dad arrives, he'll put the ointment in my eye around the clock, so I can be as lazy as I choose to be.
I'm going to hibernate now except for the times I must get up to barf. i'm hoping my dad brings good anti-nausea drugs.