Gatorade is now my new love.

I have no clue what day it is. I mean, I know it's Wednesday, but the actual dates are beyond me. Ever since Sunday, I have spent my time in bed, nursing myself through one nasty case of the stomach flu, with the help of my wonderful husband.

It all started at 6am on Sunday. I flew out of bed to commence my 12 hour vomitting marathon that landed me at Patient First that evening. I hate Patient First, but not more than I hate my regular doctor who never called me back, despite me leaving a message stating that I couldn't even keep down water. Anyway, once I got to Patient First, and once I was asked about 879898 times if I was allergic to any medications, I was given a shot in my boot-ay to stop the nausea. That worked pretty much instantly, but I was still as weak as a little kitten, so the doctor decided he was going to hook me up to an IV after he took some blood. Good thing, too, considering I almost passed out when they took the blood.

After laying me down, taking my blood pressure about 4 times, giving me a cold compress, and helping me sip ginger ale, the nurses started my IV of, as my doctor put it, "Gatorade without the Gatorade." 1 1/2 liters later I felt much better and had to pee for the first time all day. Ross was extremely amazed by the IV and kept saying, "It's like you're eating, but you're not eating!" Anyway, the doctor sent me home with a prescription for anti-nausea pills, and orders to not push myself and to drink lots of Gatorade.

Ross got me home after a quick stop at CVS to stock up on fluids. I insisted on taking a shower. Dumb idea, friends. After about a minute, I had to beckon my poor husband to help me out of the shower. As he was trying to walk me to bed, I passed out on the floor. I woke up to him slapping me on the face, pleading with me to wake up, to which I responded with an annoyed, "What?!?!?!?!?!" Being the nice man that he is, Ross carried my mostly naked, completely soaking wet self to bed and made me stay there.

I thought I was only going to miss work on Monday. But after getting an email from my teacher friend Janie who said "Don't you dare come in here tomorrow and get us all sick," I missed Tuesday. I fully planned to go in today, but, in order to avoid getting reamed out by my mother and Janie, and in efforts to avoid a relapse, I'm taking another day off to make sure I'm 100% before going back in. I also don't want to expose anyone to this who might potentially give it back to me. So, it's time to go back to bed, snuggle up with my Gatorade bottle, and spend one more day healing before heading back into the germ-fair that is my classroom.