Or week. Whatever. I’ll warn you right now this post is not gonna be pretty. So if you’re eating, stop reading. If you have a weak stomach, stop reading. Okay, so you’re still reading. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
It all started on Tuesday morning. Feeling light headed, and apparently looking ghastly, I felt as though I was gonna pass out. I had my girl Georgia get me a Coke and some pistachios, because I hadn’t eaten and thought maybe my blood sugar was a little low. Well, it worked for the moment. Kind of. I still had this woozy, off kind of feeling. It continued the rest of the day. We had a meeting after school, so I grabbed my stuff after my class dismissed, and rushed to the other campus with my partner teacher. We were among the last to arrive, and since I wasn’t feeling all that well, we decided to sit in the back. Turned out that was a good thing. Vanessa couldn’t get out of the aisle fast enough! I barely made it to the bathroom before I vomited like a crazy person. Made it through the rest of the meeting and raced home where the vomiting continued into the night.
Knowing that I’ll have demolished my sick days as of next week for some surgery I’m having, I knew calling in sick wasn’t an option. I wasn’t feeling quite as bad that next morning, so I figured I could make it. I didn’t have a fever (”98.6 - You’re going to school” says Mom) so I drug myself out of bed and into work. At about 9:30, I knew that probably wasn’t the smartest thing, as the queasies were back and in full force. I kept telling myself that I could make it, drank some Sprite, and dealt. Until about 10:30.
Now if you didn’t listen to my warning, this is where it gets bad, so brace yourself.
Okay, I’m just gonna put it out there. I totally crapped my pants. I know, you just felt your jaw drop and can’t even believe that I would post this. Well, y’all know I’m not shy, and this makes for a great story. But it gets better. This is like Merlot Pt. II (that one’s for you, Petey!). At first I wasn’t even sure what had happened. There were no cramps, gas…not even an urge to go. But after about 10 seconds, it was pretty clear. I was in deep shit. Literally. So, of course, I’m like, crap (no pun intended) - what am I gonna do? So I break down and head to my boss’ office where she offers me a seat. I politely let her know that may not be in her best interest, as I’ve just pooped myself. Long story, short…she’s like ewww…get out of here. And I did. But on my way home, I knew I had to stop at Walgreen’s to get Logan crutches. So me and my poop pants walked into Walgreen’s, and what do you know - they’re sold out of crutches. Of course they are. Perfect.
So I get home, strip down and get in the shower. I know you’re still pondering why I went to Walgreen’s in the poop pants, but I’m just gonna lay it out there for you. My stomach wasn’t currently rumbling, and luckily my pants weren’t harmed in the explosion. I figured better to do it now while the old tum-tum was calm. Besides, Logan couldn’t take care of me without crutches and you know I’m milking this one.
So I finally get home, and Logan is miraculously cured. Walking around, happy as a clam. While I say this in jest, I was so happy to see him not screaming from pain - it was definitely the best part of the day! So I’m thinking, I just took my poopy butt to Walgreen’s and you don’t even have the decency to call to tell me you don’t need the crutches. Aye, aye, aye. But I guess he couldn’t have predicted how my day was going at this point, so you can’t blame the poor guy.
Okay…I know this is getting long…vomited all night, felt great in the morning.
Part II
You still with me? So this morning I had to have a pre-op. You know, pee in the cup, breathe, poke poke, draw blood, you’re fine. Except for the draw blood. The lady couldn’t find my vein to save her soul, and I’m now sporting a bruise the size of Wisconsin where her numerous attempts lie on my arm. I told my boss it would only take half an hour, because that’s what the nurse told me. Too bad they didn’t mention I’d need to go to the hospital across the street for chest x-rays too. I’m thinking, great. This will be hours. Just fire me now. I’ll just be “The girl with the never-ending issues who poops her pants and can’t come to work”. Whatever. But wait. I walk across the street in the pouring rain to Northwestern. No lie -5 minute check in, 3 minute x-ray, and I’m out the door. Now that’s what I’m talking about.
Moral of the story - if you feel sick, call in. Or at least keep extra underwear in the trunk of your car just in case 
Where are you having surgery? The only surgery I’ve ever had in my life was at Northwestern and it was an exceedingly positive experience (I mean, as good as it can be for surgery). I would go there again if I had to.
Oh, and sorry about the poop pants. I need to send you guys an (x-rated, but real-life) story that will have you laughing your asses off.
Left by Jacqui on April 11th, 2008