As I suspected, I do have a hernia. I’ll have surgery probably toward the end of April. (The doctor initially scheduled it for April 9, but that would have impacted my social calendar!)
Today’s photos have nothing to do with today’s story. Once you’ve read, you’ll understand why and will be grateful. (Still, click any image to enlarge the adorable.)
|MOOSE DISCOVERS A CANVAS TOTE BAG.
(NOTE THE FLASH OF WHITE INSIDE THE BAG… DUDO GOT THERE FIRST.)
My stomach was upset Tuesday afternoon and, as I sat at the medical center waiting for my appointment, I proceeded to feel worse. At first I thought it was nerves, but by the time we headed home I felt weak, feverish, and had chills. I got out of the taxi and headed quickly into our building.
In the elevator, San Geraldo asked, “Do you feel like you’re going to throw up?”
“No,” I responded, “I just feel like I can’t stand much longer.”
A minute later, as I slipped the key in the lock, I said, “I think maybe I am going to…”
|DUDO: “HE’S SO ANNOYING!”|
Fortunately I made it to the bathroom.
And that’s as much detail as you’ll get about my stomach virus. Except I will tell you that as I knelt and worshipped at the porcelain god, San Geraldo called from the den, “Do you want me to hold your head?”
Some people might find that endearing. (Well, I suppose I do, too.) But if I hadn’t been choking at the time, I would have laughed. San Geraldo gets the dry heaves at the mention of the word “vomit.” A great help he would have been.
|AND MOOSE ENDS UP THE WINNER… FOR ONCE.|
Later that night, San Geraldo did get the dry heaves. At first we thought he had also contracted the stomach bug, but as we look back now we’re pretty certain his was an empathetic illness — dry heaves carried to an extreme.
In the middle of the night, San Geraldo called out (as he is wont to do when he’s not feeling well), “Miiiii-tchulllllllll.”
I staggered to the bathroom to find him, as expected, kneeling on the floor and tipping sideways. I threw a towel under his head and said, “I’ll get you a pillow.”
I returned and realised I myself was close to passing out.
I thought, ‘Maybe I should help him up.’
Then I thought, ‘I have a hernia!’
“Here’s a pillow. I can’t help you,” I blurted as I grabbed the doorframe for support before staggering back to bed.
A recent typical evening at Meson Salvador.
(Because I didn’t take video Tuesday night … John Gray of the blog, “Going Gently,” probably would have — click here.)