Monday, July 2, 2007

Dos de Julio

“Well, she’s finally been baptized,” said a friend of ours when he ran into Adam at the Mercado today. “And they always send the men to get the meds.”

It was true. I had sent Adam to market and I had been baptized - in my own vomit.

I still haven’t pinpointed what I ate or why it had to return, regurgitated before my eyes, but at this point it doesn’t matter because even thinking hurts all over.

We spent the weekend in San Juan del Sur, a glorious Pacific-side beach a few hours south of our town. Our own little inlet, seemingly private and surrounded on three sides by giant rock mountains was straight out of Island of the Blue Dolphins. It was absolutely imaginary and well worth the 2 hour bus ride there.

HOWeVER. It was NOT worth the crazy 3-hour jarring, potholed, jam-packed, sweltering bus ride/hitch hike through town/cramped five-people-in-the-back-seat cab ride BACK.

As soon as I got home, I ate a hard boiled egg (don’t ask what possessed me), took a short nap and woke up hanging on to the toilet, moaning like a monkey.

Over the next hour, I told Adam to “listen to some music or something” and I barfed 12 times.

When I was sure I’d barfed up my soul, I collapsed on the bathroom floor and made Adam bring the bed to ME, since I sure as hell wasn’t going to be able to drag myself the entire 7 feet across the room. So there I slept, on a mattress on the floor by the bathroom through the whole night without moving.

This morning, I wake up and attempt to drag myself to the bathroom and can’t even pull myself to sit on the pot. I’m so lightheaded I nearly pass out – so back to the mattress where I stay put for the entire day, muscles aching like I’ve never felt before, fever of 103 degrees, a twisted up stomach, and an amazing boyfriend by my side the whole time. – well except when I sent him for Gatorade and soda crackers.

Long story, short: I survived by putting some ice in my armpits and some kittens in my lap.

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