La La How The Life Goes On

February Noro-Easter

Posted on: February 25, 2011

So how’s your February vacation going? Mine is going as expected, which is to say that I have had two kids at home, some playdates, lots of lounging around and relaxing (kids, not me)…and I’ve been pooping my pants for 3/4 of it. I’m half-joking, of course. It was maybe only 2/3.

Vacation itself has been surprisingly fabulous. Bambina has been NAPPING in the afternoons. Yes, my 6 year-old who gave up naps as “babyish” at the tender age of 2.11 is now getting her snooze on as soon as Baby Sister lays down for hers. She is in heaven, even if she doesn’t always sleep. She just goes back to bed and reads and lies around and “shlumps.” Happiest girl on the block. It makes me grateful to be stay-at-home, even though I often rail (in these pages, even!) about what shit it is sometimes. I know there are a million programs and camps she could be in this week, but honestly a)they are too expensive to justify sending her when I am not currently working full-time, and b) therefore “vacation” should mean precisely that: vacation. If that means nodding off around 1pm after a chapter of Beezus and Ramona, then so be it. She has her whole adult life to work vacations and miss naps. If you are over the age of 22, you know what I mean.

Baby Sister has been the Essence of Cuteness all week, currently showing her heart surgery scar to anyone who will look. We’re in the store and –blam!–up comes the shirt, the point, the search for a fist bump. Can she get a witness?!! The unfortunate thing is that, in order to make her feel better about it immediately post-surgery when it freaked her out, I showed her that Mama has scars too. I have four of varying sizes on my chest, from the transplant central line and my various attendant immunosuppressed skin cancer removals. So, in showing off her scars, Baby Sister likes to pull my shirt down to show off mine as well. I was initially mortified, but I felt better as soon as the dude at Stop and Shop gave me a fist bump too.

So, during all of this, I apparently had a rampant norovirus that’s been cutting a swath through the northeast. Only, I did not know this. The first 2 days I thought I had a wee virus. Sucked it up. Then on days 3 and 4 I thought I had GVHD of the gut again, so I was beginning to get worried. Then by Day 5 with no letup in sight (and none of the telltale, pardon the TMI, cramping of GVH) I called my doctor because I thought I might have C. Diff, the dreaded intestinal affliction that visits itself upon you after antibiotic use. C. Diff is something you do not want to ever have, and certainly not untreated if you want to keep your colon. So off to Dana Farber I went to provide the unpleasantly-named stool sample.

This is where I invite you to click to another page, dear reader, should you not appreciate the exquisite joys of scatology. Because when I arrived at DF, after long, exhausting DAYS of what the Chinese, mercifully and politely, call “la duzi (doodzeh),” I Could Not Perform. I shit (ha!) you not. Literally couldn’t leave my house for days, but got myself into the DF loo and could not produce even a nugget. Oh, the stress! It was a one-person toilet, so I knew someone would need to get in sooner or later. And I absolutely needed to give them this sample because I did not want to end up with a destroyed colon if I did have it. And the BabyDaddy was downstairs in the cafeteria with the girls, and how much could he entertain them and for how long if I was in here for an hour trying to bring forth that which could not be named? And what if the guy in the lab came looking for me? Would I just yell, “I’m working on it!”? How does this work? How do you explain that you came in for total nausea and unrelenting explosive diarrhea but right now, at this time–this very critical time–this mother of all times of times–you got nuthin’? How can this be happening??!! This Cannot Be Happening.

So, [story redacted].
Then I turned in the sample, and BabyDaddy drove us all back home (because I was so dehydrated I was afraid to drive in case I passed out). Later, as I detailed my struggle, he said, “You know, it’s a shame they don’t have bathroom p*rn for you in there. You know, maybe some magazines with photos of giant bran muffins and huge glasses of apple juice or something.”

I laughed so hard I almost pooped my pants.


1 Response to "February Noro-Easter"

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