When last I wrote, we were just about to come home. And you thought the story ended there, hah! On Tuesday night, Cheryl announced that she wanted to take Beth to the park early, so our last day at the park would not be a short day at the park. We had to drive home on Wednesday, so it was already going to be a short day. Shortly after Cheryl made her announcement, I announced that I could sleep in and go to the park with her parents later that day. If Cheryl cursed me for the sentiment, it worked. I slept in alright, but when I woke up something did not feel quite right. I tried eating, but it only made matters worse. Showering and shaving didn’t do any good either. When it finally got to be time to go to the park I didn’t feel much like walking around, unless I was walking to a bathroom. Cheryl’s parents went to the park and I stayed in the hotel room, alone with my growing agony. When they called two hours later, I was well beyond ready to go home. I was having visions of being violently ill in a hotel room and I craved familiar surroundings.
You should have pity on my wife and her parents. I am not a pleasant person when I’m violently ill. I was an unpleasant person for the hour or so it took them to pack and load the car, the two hours it took to drive home, and the half an hour they spent unloading the car.
Later Wednesday night I went to the ER. The ER doctors were all impressed that I still didn’t have to pee after getting three liters of IV fluids. Fortunately I didn’t have to spend the night in the hospital, they let me go home at 2 a.m.
I spent the next four days depositing and withdrawing clear fluids.
I write this entry one week after the onset of my illness. Today was the first day I ate regular food. That’s something to be thankful for, believe me.