Thursday was all set to be one of the busiest days at work ever. EVER. I got to the office early to sit on some meetings to discuss the day’s events and then we – my husband (who I work with), my boss and I – went to lunch. We went where we always go – a little Chinese restaurant about a block from our office building. It’s quick, cheap and delicious. Usually.
They’re out of Sesame Chicken, which is what we all usually get. We opt for General Tso Chicken instead.
We eat and talk and laugh and joke about all sorts of things and discuss how we have so much to do and whatnot and then we leave.
We get to the office and my stomach starts to feel a little upset, but I think, no biggie – my stomach hates everything I put in it anyway. It will bitch for a bit and then get over it. (WRONG)
We leave work and as we’re walking the 10 blocks to the parking garage, I start to feel really sick. Like, really, really, really sick. So we stop and take a few deep breathes and walk over to a trash can (keep in mind this is in the middle of downtown Richmond, right next to the capital), just in case – and lo and behold, up comes lunch. Again and again.
I can say, without a doubt, losing my lunch in the middle of downtown Richmond, while in uniform, is the single most embarrassing moment of my entire life.
After puking in no less than two trashcans, Andrew arrives with the car and I spend the short ride home dry heaving into a ziploc bag full of dog food. I’d smell the dog food, it’d make me dry heave, I’d stick my face in the bag in case something came up and then I’d smell the dog food all over again. FAIL.
By the time we got home, I made a beeline for the bathroom. Andrew threw me a pillow and curled up in a little ball on the floor and, thankfully, started to feel a touch better. It’s amazing what limited movement can do for an upset stomach.
About thirty minutes later I hear Andrew in the upstairs bathroom losing his lunch and realize that I was right all along – there was something wrong with that food.
We started texting each other from our respective bathrooms at some point in there and came to the conclusion that we needed to get up – somehow – and go the hospital.
And we did. Somehow.
Except for that emergency room was NOT MOVING. As in, we waiting for over an hour, and not one single person was called back. So we said “fuck it” and left, thinking we’d have better luck at a Patient First (it’s a walk-in place for non-emergency type stuff). Andrew and I went to different rooms and were seen by different doctors (all within an hour, mind you).
I had food poisoning. He had a stomach ache. Which, you know, is totally bogus because OBVIOUSLY we both had food poisoning, but in the end it didn’t matter because they gave us the same medicine and so we went home, took the drugs, and passed the hell out.
That was Thursday. Now it’s Monday and I feel better. I spent Friday and Saturday in a zombie-like haze, and yesterday I felt tired, but not quite zombie-like.
I may never eat General Tso Chicken again.
So that was my weekend – how was yours?