Just a Normal Weekend...

It is such a relief after 2 months of travel and weddings and packed weekends to have one relatively normal one to look forward to. This weekend we are attending a Care of Mother & Child class through our birth center, going to pick out and order a chair for the baby's room, going to the bank to (finally!) change my name on my accounts and consolidate our bank accounts and going to a play at Intersection - one of my art space clients. Oh, and probably going to pick out tile for the kitchen (my home reno moratorium didn't last very long).

A glimpse into the monotony these days: I have been sick - cold or flu, I guess. Not ridiculously sick, but when you are 31+ weeks pregnant and already not sleeping or breathing easy, adding a stuffy nose and achiness and sore throat and nausea and all of that can really take a lot out of you. I am hanging on and trying to take it easier than normal so this can pass quickly. Ray has been very busy at work for the last month or so - lots of deadlines and lots of working late. On a more fun note, he is also getting a new rear bumper for Fiona (the FJ), which he has been looking forward to for quite awhile (and saving his fun money for!) :) Ikaika has been a pain in the butt throwing up and peeing and pooing all over. I don't know if he is some kind of sick or in a wretched state because one of the neighborhood bitches is in heat... either way, we are both very very very sick of cleaning up after him. (And some first time parents dread diaper changes... I think we won't be fazed!) Mela is the same ever-hungry chunky monkey cuddlebug as always.

Our families have been having some big changes lately, too.

Basi had his first day of Kindergarten: and Joel & Karen bought (and moved) into a new house: Congrats all around!

The Poisoning of Christmas

What is with all of the drama lately? As I write, I am struggling to breath normally and sip my Pedialyte.

It all began a dark and foggy Friday night after Christmas...at least that is the only thing I can figure out since everyone seems to think this has to be food poisoning and that is the last time I ate. Yes, it is Monday now. You would think I would be starving, but instead I tried to eat some oatmeal this morning and I feel like I just ran a marathon. I am so weak and exhausted at trying to handle a few bites of food. Jeez.

I woke up Saturday morning around maybe 6 (no chance to check the clock) and starting throwing up. This continued off and on for approximately 24 hours. The time I spent not throwing up was spent mostly passed out on the bathroom floor since I couldn't walk and it was a sure thing I would need to throw up again soon. I tried to eat 2 saltines, a few sips of water and 3 bites of bread on Saturday. None of that worked out very well. Finally at night I was able to drink about 4 oz of Gatorade and "hold it down."

Sunday morning I woke up at 5am to catch my flight home. I was feeling much better because I wasn't in the bathroom every 5 minutes, but I was so weak from not eating and still nauseous and light headed and all that. I drank some more Gatorade before the plane took off and some Gingerale once onboard. I was hanging in there when I was just sitting there, but about an hour and a half into the three hour flight I started to feel worse and tried to go to the bathroom. No one wants to really use those puke bags in the seat pocket in front of you. Can you imagine my poor seat neighbor?

Regardless, I didn't make it to the bathroom. I got right outside and they were full and I was feeling much worse, so I tried to sit on the floor in the hall (clearly I was out of it). I don't know that I made it because the next thing I remember was laying down with 2 doctors talking to me. Apparently Ray was nodding off when he heard an announcement that they needed a medic in the back. He ran to the back, knowing it was for me and saw my green socks sticking out from the back. Poor guy got a good scare. To make matters worse the flight attendant said she thought I had been out for 4 minutes and that I might have had a seizure. The doctors concluded probably no seizure because I was not confused when I woke up.

Here is where I underestimate the effect of what happened. I think, oh crap, I am just going back to my seat and trying to get some gingerale down. Instead I have to hang out in the back flight attendant compartment sipping gingerale (1 teaspoon size every 10 minutes) with the doctors and flight attendants and Ray all hovering asking me questions and taking my vitals periodically. Ray definitely upped the anti for husband-of-the-year (as if he hadn't already won after Saturday - not to mention the Peru sickness or the finger smashing! Or his general loveliness). He got me my jacket and a blanket and held my gingerale for me to sip and rubbed my back. He even stole one of the airplane bags to carry around with us the rest of the day so I was always prepared for whatever may come (or come up, if you will).

The rest of the flight was pretty uneventful - I did keep down a whole can of gingerale and 3 crackers, so I was feeling pretty impressed with myself. Unfortunately the paramedics had to come get me off the plane at the gate and do more testing and wouldn't let me get on our connecting flight.

Sidenote on the perks of passing out on the plane:
1. Ray and I got to sit together (a non-existant luxury these days on airlines)
2. Free drinks (they were charging $2 for any drink)
3. Blanket
4. Whatever I wanted from the "snack box" for free - too bad I had no appetite
5. We got to de-board before everyone else with the paramedics
6. I got wheeled around in a wheelchair for the rest of the day (this I would not really say is a perk since it sucks to be wheeled around, but when you are so weak you can't really walk it was the best luxury)

So, the paramedics told me I was severely dehydrated and should go to the hospital to get an IV. But I said that I had been drinking gingerale and keeping it down, so they said if I thought I could keep down liquids I could stay in the airport and drink and take a later flight. Tip for the severely dehydrated: no water, lots of salt and sugar liquids (broth, juice, gingerale with the bubbles stirred out, etc.) Ray alternately ran around our terminal looking for suitable goods and fawned over me while I mostly tried to suck salt off pretzels and keep juice down while laying on the airport floor until our later flight left.

Thankfully it was uneventful and short. I just kept my head on my tray the whole time and waited for it to end. After a long drawn out "getting home" process that included resting in bed for a couple of hours at the in-laws with Ray force feeding me broth and Pedialyte, we finally arrived and I crashed.

Such a short trip and so long awaited... cut short by an evil stranger that contaminated my food. Or was it me eating all that dairy? Is it possible to have such a violent reaction? I will certainly not be having dairy anytime soon, I can tell you that much. Don't even say the C-word in front of me! Maybe that will be a 2009 resolution...