The Return from Hell

I've not had good luck getting myself back to Tampa in my travels this fall. It seems like someone's trying to send me a message - do not return there! As referenced below, we had driven up to to The Farm, which is a 6 hour drive away, for the Thanksgiving break.

On Friday evening, we had a big oyster roast, with the cousins and some friends over for a big party. It was great - hay rides, oysters, chili, etc. The only thing is that one of the guests brought with him or her a NASTY stomach virus. This stomach virus spread to my husband, who was sick on Saturday afternoon and evening. He threw up late afternoon, and then spent the evening moaning in bed. Basically, he was miserable, but he was fine.

I woke up Sunday morning (the day we were to return) feeling a bit queasy. And diarrhea. I knew then and there that I had It, as well. So, we waited around until I threw up. I figured then we could leave, because I could lay and be miserable in the car as well as in a bed. Right?

Not so much.

We got about an hour down the road, when we first had to pull over. I heaved and hurled. This time, I tossed out the ginger ale I had consumed, as well as the crackers I'd eaten. But, I noted that my Immodium pills were not there, so they were probably already absorbed.

And then another 20 minutes. Same drill. This time, it was just some saliva and a little bit more liquid. I decided to have a lie-down on the side of the road right then and there. mmmmm.... dirt.....

Then another 20 minutes. Here we go again. Except this time I run off to the bushes for the diarrhea. I take more Immodium.

Then another 20 minutes. This time, I had to heave, and I almost didn't even make it out of the car. And the diarrhea kicked in. So off to the bushes to change clothes. My relationship with poo has taken on a new meaning.

Finally, we get to the town of Folkston after about 3 1/2 hours of driving. This should have taken us less than two. We stop at the Rite-Aid so I can go in and use the facilities (gee - puking and pooping indoors! luxuries abound!) and beg the pharmacist for medicinal relief.

Only I passed out in the parking lot. And apparently, I puked again and did the other deed again. I have no bodily control at this time.

So Mr. Mac takes me over to the emergency room around the corner at the Charlton County Regional Medical Center. They took me back to the back and gave me IV fluids and phenegran. Lovely phenegran. My blood pressure was 75/35 when I arrived (I'm normally 90/60). I was a sick girl.

They poked and prodded and proclaimed me "not pregnant!" (this was a big deal). Finally, they declared me the latest in a string of victims of a nasty stomach virus making the rounds. After x-rays (the purpose of which I don't get at all!) and completing the IV fluids, they got me up. I went to get my clothes, and the nurse said "Let me go see if they're dry". The sweetheart had WASHED MY NASTY CLOTHES!

So we got back on the road - I got in the way back of the Minivan and curled into the fetal position. We finally got back to Tampa at about 10 pm (double the trip time we should have taken).

Home sweet home, at least for 4 days - then it's back out again to Atlanta. Maybe this once we can have an uneventful return trip.