Yesterday I stopped at a fast food place and grabbed a wrap for dinner, something I thought would be healthy for me. I was wrong. By bedtime, my tummy was not happy. I tried to sleep, but the rumbling and grumbling was keeping me awake.
Then came nausea. And the barfing.
Around three in the morning, I finally remembered that I still had a ton of nausea medication in my medicine cabinet. Maybe that would let me sleep, I thought. I have no sick leave left, so no matter what, I would have to go to work.
As I was trying to tear the stupid foil pack open so I could take my zofran, it hit me. I was sick. Just a simple case of food poisoning. I was just plain sick.
For the last two years, everything that has happened to me has been about cancer. All of my surgeries? Cancer. Fingernails popping off? Cancer. Sores in my throat? Cancer. Everything about my health for too long has been about those stupid cancer cells. You get so zeroed in on that one aspect of your health, it ends up being your sole focus. Everything, even a hangnail, becomes about cancer. Nothing else registers until the danger has passed. This is the first time in two years that I have been sick that didn't have a single thing to do with cancer.
Yeah, I know. Only I could come up with something positive about barfing at three in the morning. But it made the barfing a little more bearable. I went into work stocked with crackers and plenty of water, but that was okay.
I was just sick.