I woke up Christmas Eve with a slightly nauseous stomach and a headache. Neither of these things are all that unusual for me so I didn't really pay them much mind; but as the day progressed so did the severity of each. Then around four in the afternoon my stomach decided that it was going to begin forcing everything out of my bowls.
No big deal, right?
Well at five I started throwing up and within two hours I was completely dehydrated and shivering so badly that I couldn't stand. By the end of the next hour I had passed out in the bathroom and would only wake up when I needed to begin expelling what I can only believe was the aftereffects of demonic possession as I made the little girl from the exorcist look like a how-to tape. An hour later I was in the bed trembling and trying to gasp out what I was sure would be my last breaths before I passed out once again. By midnight my stomach, back, and calves were knotting up with cramps as I continued to dry heave. I could barely open my eyes but thankfully I was only dry heaving as the diarrhea had passed.
At four in the morning I finally stopped dry heaving and was able to lay down for longer than twenty minutes. It would take me three more days before I was able to actually eat anything more substantial than saltine crackers, toast, and Gatorade. I'm fine now, but I'm fairly convinced that since I haven't been shot at in six years or had a knife pulled on me in four that my body has just decided that I need to experience at least one near death situation every year.
So how was your Christmas?