That’s what a dear friend of mine calls an ugly cold or stomach bug. Mullygrubs. Fitting, don’t you think? Well, maybe you have to be there. I am.
Late in the afternoon yesterday I started feeling urgh. By early evening I was spending a fair amount of “quality time” in the bathroom, so I gave up the fight and went to bed at 8:30 p.m. I thought I’d never sleep the night through — and I didn’t. My mullygrubby tum forced me up twice in the night, but I slept soundly in between. I finally woke at 7:30 this morning. I believe that’s a Wren-record for hours in bed, completely dead to the world.
For a few minutes after I got up I thought I was over the ‘grubs, but … no. So I’m making myself eat a slice of dry toast and a boiled egg. No, it really doesn’t sound very good to me, either, but the egg is packed with protein and the toast shouldn’t cause much in the way of more nausea. Maybe it will even soak up random mullygrubs, neutralizing them. I can hope, can’t I?
I also hope this is just a 24-hour sort of bug, and that I’ll be feeling normal again before tonight. I don’t get sick very often; I’m not a very patient patient. I’m used to coping with rheuma pain; in fact, unless it’s really nasty pain, I just bull on through it, doing as much as I can manage and not worrying too much about what I can’t. But nausea just knocks me on my butt. Always has.
So here are my plans for the day: _____________. That’s right. None. I’m not going out unless I have to. I’m going back to bed with my Kindle and the cat (who thinks this whole thing is just wonderful and has been sticking to me like Velcro). My hands and wrists are still giving me the what-for, so they’re sheathed in Thermagloves and wrist supports, and, if I can muster up the oomph, I’ll give that new TENS unit a little workout after a while.
Agh, The loo’s calling my name. Later, alligator!