After 31 years, the phrase “Vomit-Free Since ‘83” no longer applies to me.
Apparently I have a stomach flu of sorts, which resulted in the loss of a 31 year absence from intestinal distress. The last time something like this happened to me was on The Music Express at Rocky Point Amusement Park in the summer of 1983.
Apparently I had been saving up for this moment. Elysha later told me that it was the most horrifying thing she’s ever heard.
Honestly, I don’t know how you people do it more than once every 31 years or so.
As a newcomer to any kind of stomach distress, I can tell you that the complete lack of appetite is astounding. I ate an Egg McMuffin about 30 hours ago and nothing but Jell-O and popsicles since.
I can’t imagine ever eating again. Ever.
I also miss my family. I have become a pariah in my own home. I’m relegated to the bedroom and am avoiding the wife and children like the plague.
Actually, I’m the plague. They are avoiding me.
Clara came downstairs last night while Elysha was out getting me popsicles and told me that she needed a cuddle. I had to say no. Then she told me I never have time for her anymore and went back upstairs.
It was almost worse than the stomach pain I was feeling.
But here’s the real problem:
Vomiting is now a thing for me. Something I’ve avoided for more than three decades is now on the list of possibilities, and it scares the hell out of me. I never want that to happen again. Ever. I can’t imagine anything worse.
It was awful.
But now I think it will happen again someday. I’m no longer the super hero I thought I was. I’m no longer Mr. Indestructible.
Last night, in the midst of my five minutes of retching, a scene from Rocky 4 entered my mind.
I know it sounds strange, but it really did. It sums up the sudden fragility that I feel perfectly. And horribly.
It was this scene: