I go to bed as usual, but wake up feeling sick in the middle of the night. By 2 a.m., I’ve got diarrhea and vomiting. A hardcore experience for anyone – we have all been there done that. We all dread it when it comes. It can strike so unexpectedly.
I really wouldn’t tell you about it, except that as things began to calm down a couple hours later, I suddenly realized how blessed I am to have the master bathroom just a few feet from my bed. Running water, toilet, bucket, damp cloth and a thermometer all at hand. If I had messed my clothes, the laundry room is just in the next room. And well, I couldn’t help but think about sleeping out back of our church (Agent Z and I) a couple months ago.
If I had been hit with the Cha Chaz that night, what would I have done???
Well, the church, shamefully, was not open to help, and I had visited the can at Walmart about 400 or 500 yards away for two bathroom trips in the night. (I don’t think I would have made it that far being sick.)
What if I was homeless and had no conventional options???
I think I would want to go to the hospital in that case. But being all the way across town, that would require activating emergency response. Talk about expensive! What a waste? But if I had Cha Cha seeping out my pants, I would be desperate, and I don’t think Walmart would want me or be of much use.
Look, I wish this unmentionable stuff could remain unmentionable, but I began to recognize last night in the throes of emesis, that tending to it discretely is a luxury. And if nothing else, my readers here (those living indoors for sure) can make themselves thankful next time they suffer the runs.
With that… I am back to bed. I am still mending this evening. Thank God I have that bed!