I have been soo sick. Maybe I am just a pansy, but I am not sure I have ever been so ill in my entire life. We're talking "Im I going to make it?" ill. Here's what happened:
New Years Eve- Dinner, Movie- some big bright balls dropping- then we go to bed. We're not 18 anymore- no reason to stay up any longer than the ball.
2:00 am, New Years Day - I start to throw up. Ugh. Go to the couch- maybe I just ate something bad.
3:00 am- Again- more blowing chunks. What's going on, here?
4:00 am- Upchuck, upchuck, upchuck. this is not normal for me.
5:00 am. Nothing left- Dry Heaves. The most horrible feeling on earth, maybe.
Holly hears me- takes control of the situation- puts my shoes on me and takes me to the hospital. Im still moaning that im going to be fine, its no big deal.
We go to the hospital and do the ER thing- of course it's New Years Day, and every drunk in town is in there with the exact same symptoms that I have- so lets say they dont exactly rush around to help. Every doctor was like..."Sooo... have we had a little much for New Years?" I wanted to scream. At this point, an interesting feeling came over me. I say interesting because i have never felt it before- other than that I would describe it as my whole body being on fire. I couldnt touch anything. I couldnt let anything touch me. The sheet was too heavy. The gown was excruciating. The IV felt like it was being super-heated.
After four hours, they sent us home. Just a bug, they said. Well, a pretty big freaking bug if you ask me. i thought it was over.
We get home and my temp starts to rise and I feel worse than I ever did, only this time with the knowledge that i have been to Vanderbilt and they dismissed it as a bug. I start to think maybe Vandy doesnt know all that much...
Chills, Fever, Sweats, Chills Fever, Sweats... You know the drill. Another day of that.
Through it all, Holly was the consummate nurse. She was fearless and kind- and always put a little straw in my glass so i could drink it. She forced the Gatorade down me, and the Wheat Thins. In short, she saved my life.
Thats the real reason I write all this... to tell you how crappy I felt and how good she made me feel. In fact, she does that quite often, not just when im blowing chunks. Thank God for Holly. I do.