If you have a weak stomach or a sensitive gag reflex, you may wish to skip this post. It started late Wednesday night. That queasy, dizzy feeling in the pit of the stomach that makes you afraid to burp for fear it turns into a full-on technicolor yawn.
I thought perhaps stress had done its dirty work. I can handle my neck going out of alignment. My big tip off was walking like a drunk sailor who’d just receive shore leave after 6 months at sea.
This time the universe had something special in store for me. I was gifted with swimmer’s ear in not one but both ears. Lovely thing ears. They’re quite useful for holding up the glasses. And yet the tiny bones inside are connected with the brain and the stomach. Such power to be instilled in tiny ear flaps. But I digress.
I knew what it was when swallowing hurt. I usually get ahead of it early in the game, but this year I slipped until it was too late. I would love to blame the stubborn gene that had me waiting an extra day and a half before going to the clinic for something strong.
During that time I fell back on the standard Rent-A-Food that we all eat when we know it isn’t going to be around long. Popsicles are always good, water, chicken soup, apple juice, toast, crackers, etc. We all have our lists. And excluded from that are the foods we love to eat and don’t want ruined as we worship to the porcelain god and heave over our offering.
Three days into treatment and I’m still not a hundred percent. There are no quick movements, but at least my world nows moves along with everyone else’s.
Until next time.