This past Saturday, I attended a party thrown by Birmingham’s oldest sister. I always love her parties because she has the best food, her friend in the liquor business brings the best booze. Also, they have a pool, so it’s win-win-win.
We got to the party around four in the afternoon, and I had a margarita in my hand before I could put down my purse, and I ate about 2,000 calories of finger foods before I even got a chance to say hello to everyone. Long story short, by mid-evening, I was feeling quite bloated. (I do want to note that I nursed that margarita for about two hours and subsequently only drank two beers.)
Instead of staying the night as planned, Birmingham agreed to take me back to his place so I could be in intestinal agony out of the watchful eye of his sister’s friends. I was concerned that he thought I was faking, or embellishing my pain, because he didn’t react kindly to the haste I imposed on our exit. At two in the morning I finally I got him behind the wheel of my car, and we hit the highway.
The ride was harrowing. I’ve been sick and tired from too much food in the past, but this time if I closed my eyes, I got nauseous, yet I couldn’t keep them open because I was so drowsy. As we were passing exit 5, I knew that Birmingham had to pull over the car. Like now.
Let me interject here that I’m not the kind of person who likes to throw up. When I was a kid and getting sick meant an all-day and all-night affair, and since then I’ve had a deep, deep fear of being sick to my stomach. Through all of my college days when my friends were convinced that a good up-chuck was the best way to end a night of drinking, I’d hold it in for dear life. I think that’s one of the top 10 reasons that I’ve never been a big drinker.
As Birmingham was driving like an Indy 500 champ to get me off the highway and onto dry land before something tragic happened to the inside of my Saturn, a strange thought occurred to me. I haven’t had the feeling of overwhelming impending puke in more than a decade, and that was the last time in my life I ever ate ham, or ate anything made at Boston Chicken (now Boston Market, but don’t let the name change fool you, it’s still an e. coli palace.) I wasn’t sure I would even know how to do it when I got out of the car.
You see, the last time I had serious digestion problems, I was out of work for three days, a worthless lump writhing on the couch. At one point, it was so bad that I resolved to get over my fear and make myself vomit. Because the state of my bathroom was more disgusting than my illness, I decided to go into the woods and try to be sick there, in the natural environment. What’s the point of living on 80 acres of Christmas trees if you can’t hurl in them every once and a while? So I found myself a nice spot off of a path under a tree that looked like it could use some fertilizing. I knelt down and tried to will myself to spew, but nothing happened. I concentrated on that one thing for what felt like an hour, but the demons in my gut remained steadfast.
Just as I was about to pack it in and retreat to my couch again, I heard the voices of two people who were walking down the path. We often get people trespassing on the farm, picnicking, hiking or ATVing; generally taking advantage of the fact that the trees have been put out to pasture, and that no one is minding the land anymore. They were talking really loudly, but as soon as they spotted me, they lowered their voices to a whisper, although I could still hear them.
“Do you think that she’s going to bust us?”
“No, I don’t think she minds.”
“I hope we’re not bothering her, what do you think she’s doing?”
“From the looks of it, she’s praying.”
I was not afforded the time to pray or even contemplate my next move on Saturday night. As soon as Birmingham pulled into the parking lot of the Burger King, my body reclaimed the muscle memory from all those years ago and rid itself of all of the evening’s food. It wasn’t actually that bad. Except for the part where I missed the decorative mulch for which I was aiming and the part where I hit.. well, let’s just say I was glad Birmingham has a washing machine at his place.
I was shocked that I actually felt better afterwards. I mean, it wasn’t an enjoyable experience, but it made me wonder what I was so afraid of for so long. Also, I’m not planning on getting sick again unless I have Birmingham at my side. Not only did he hold my hair back, but when I was finished, he used the decorative mulch to cover up my mess on the asphalt for the good of the poor guy who cleans the Burger King’s parking lot. He also bought me a gigantic bottle of ginger ale to nurse on the ride home.
When I got back to my house on Sunday afternoon, my Nervous Nelly of a cat, in protest of being left alone two nights in a row, had barfed all over the living room floor. At least she had the decency to miss the rug and hit the hardwood. She’s a pro that way. I’ll have to remember to pick up some saltines for her this evening.
17 responses so far ↓
The Dutchess of Kickball // August 13, 2007 at 12:55 pm
I am a gigantic believer in the healing power of a good puke. You always feel better. It is nonetheless your body saying it doesn’t want whatever it is in there. GET IT OUT. Also, Because I am a bit of a germaphobe with a weak gag reflex I generally just get my face moderatly close to the toilet and that in and of itself makes me throw up. Try it, I recommend it.
Aaron // August 13, 2007 at 2:23 pm
I find your general lack of nausea both foreign and amusing, given that I puke all the time. Okay, not all the time, but more than is normal. I think it’s all the caffeine. No doubt I’ve burned a hole in the lining of my stomach.
Bottom line: nausea sucks. Puking is the key to relief. Also, I am so jealous that you can just go and puke on a bunch of Christmas trees any time you want! Lucky!
Jennifer M. // August 13, 2007 at 2:53 pm
I too have regurgitation problems. Usually when I have to puke, I start hyperventilating and then I go into stomach spasms which lead to a good 15 minutes of dry heaves. It is a major ordeal, so I try to avoid it.
However, one time in January of 2006 I vomited repeatedly during the night without a freak out. I was so proud of myself, that I actually called my parents and my sister to tell them that I had thrown up like an adult (I was 29 at the time). This is especially of note because I was on a business trip to Jerusalem and I used up my company-paid weekly calls home for that little gem. If only I had had a blog (or someone to hold my hair back for that matter)!
lizgwiz // August 13, 2007 at 3:09 pm
I hate throwing up. Like you, I only do it when absolutely necessary. (Though I did go through a phase in college where I totally bought into the theory that puking would bring sweet relief from the bedspins.) There’s only one thing worse than puking, in my opinion. That’s puking into the bathroom trashcan, because you’re already sitting on the toilet. Both ends at once–THAT’S the worst.
I think I’ve made myself nauseous.
BOSSY // August 13, 2007 at 5:38 pm
Anyway - Did somebody say Margarita?
alyndabear // August 13, 2007 at 8:09 pm
Oh NO! I can’t puke either.. and the times I’ve tried to make myself throw up just to feel better, I just end up gagging on the floor feeling like death.
Blech.
Hate puking. Birmingham sounds like a gem, though.
Noelle // August 13, 2007 at 8:27 pm
I’m sorry this post turned into a free-for all of puke stories. But really, what was I expecting? I’m just happy to have people participate in the madness!
Dutchess - I hate to admit it, but I want my face as far as possible from my toilet. That thing is dirty.
Aaron - Are you puking right now? Does it feel better?
Jennifer - congrats on your first success story! That part feels almost as good as the part where you’re not sick anymore!
liz - I would say that you made me nauseous with your out from both ends saga, but it is oh so true. There have been many a time when I’ve sat on the toilet willing everything down, not up.
bossy - oh yeah, the Margarita. It was great. I don’t think it was the reason for my illness as it was consumed a good 10 hours before hitting the Burger King parking lot. One must not blame the Margarita if at all possible.
alyndabear - he is a gem, like an uncut diamond. I was reading over some old posts, and I think I give him a harder time than he deserves. Look to the title of this entry, and that’s his true nature.
Kirsten // August 14, 2007 at 1:20 am
i haven’t thrown up, sober, in almost 10 years (for the same reasons you’ve stated). intoxicated: well, that’s another story for another time… involving an evening gown, a law student, a downtown DC bar and too much maker’s mark.
man, i really wish my parent’s didn’t read my blog… it would be way-more-interesting.
stilettoheights // August 14, 2007 at 1:06 pm
I have amazing puke control, really if I choose not to I won’t….though I do have a slight fear of the whole puke thing…like while it’s happening I sob, which makes the whole experience just messy, sad, and well…creepy I would think.
stefanie // August 14, 2007 at 1:31 pm
I hate throwing up, too, but you’re right: it does almost always make you feel better.
Also, Birmingham’s response to that tragedy almost (ALMOST) makes up for his insensitive remarks last week.
I guess that you can keep him.
Erikka // August 14, 2007 at 3:26 pm
hey, did you turn the comments off for your latest entry? see my response comment to kelli’s blog on Eat, Love Pray. I’m with you sistah on disliking that book!!!
Anaka // August 14, 2007 at 6:48 pm
I think my favorite part is the two walkers who stumbled upon you and thought you were praying. I laughed out loud.
I wanted to make a comment on your latest post, but the comments link is turned off . . .
Sadie Says // August 15, 2007 at 1:31 am
Me too, me too! I can’t puke and I can’t see other people puke either. And that’s all I’ll say about that, other than I think we just bonded over puking stories.
I also wanted to comment about the bookstore closing but the comments are turned off. My condolences… to us all. I worked for many years in bookstores and they are all close to my heart. Even I order books from Amazon, but I still do my best to buy things at our local independent whenever I can. I think I’d cry if they closed…
rdl // August 15, 2007 at 3:20 am
Oh you poor thing, I hate throwing up more than anything,except for childbirth maybe.
I know you left comments off on yr. last post, but i just left like i should say I’m sorry for your parents and for you. I hope things work out for them.
Erikka // August 15, 2007 at 2:18 pm
I meant to say, in regards to the commentless blog, I’m sorry to see a bookstore close. I’m not in the trade business, but still in publishing (college textbooks, yeck…I feel responsible for over pricing and monopolies alot…
ps. are you a librarian too? did you get a masters? where?
Noelle // August 15, 2007 at 2:25 pm
kir - congrats on the near perfect record! Sometimes I wish that my parents didn’t read mine either, but thankfully my mom’s cool, and my dad only reads what she prints out for him.
stiletto - the crying/puking thing is new to me. That sounds like what happens to me when I get the hiccups.
stefanie - I’m still not sure how much I want to go and do that again, and I’m not certain that I could will it, either. And as for Birmingham, I do need to give him a fair shake every once and a while. He’s a very decent fellow who happens to make faux passes all the time.
erikka - I’m a bookseller, not a librarian, my degree is in English and theatre. I have no mad research skillz. However, I am qualified to make judgments on sucky books such as Eat Pray Love!
anaka - I’ve been meaning to work that anecdote in there somewhere. I was glad to finally get the chance. Boy, did they have the wrong girl!
rdl- I do have a fear that if I ever go through childbirth, there will be puking involved. That’s enough to make me think about adoption.
Anonymous // August 18, 2007 at 6:33 pm
Just saying, it might not be the alcohol. Have you had your appendix checked? My niece, a non-drinker, would upchuck after rich meals after holidays and weddings and such. It turns out that’s a red flag for appendix problems.
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