Why, oh why, does antibiotic-induced nausea only happen after I FINISHED the bowl of yum?
Why can't I feel shitty, oh, say three bites in? Save me some freakin' calories, yo.
Three bites:
The first, to really understand the yum. Become fully enveloped in the mouth ecstasy.
The second, to completely relish the yum.
The third, to drive away the hungries.
Then, nausea, so that I put DOWN THE DAMN FORK.
Instead, I eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, eat. Then, I get up to get a drink of water. Forget about bowl of yum. Then, the barfies set in, and I have to plan around the barfies, see if my meds should be fully dissolved, which would determine WHERE the barfies, should they come, can take place.
The bowl stares at me, enticing me. Begging me to enjoy the remains. The last bits of yum left. Not just the dregs, but the GOOD STUFF that incited yum noises only moments before.
My plan of saving the best bites for last, like DESSERT bites, is foiled.
At least I didn't finish the bowl.
:::sigh:::
Showing posts with label the overwhelming nausea tells you that it's working. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the overwhelming nausea tells you that it's working. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Now---With Even Less F-Bombs!
Not much has been happening, so I will treat you to a rare short post.
I upped my doxycycline last Monday (That sounds incredibly dirty. Which is why I keep saying it.) and all was going fine until Wednesday, when I found my limits on "antibiotics on a partially empty stomach". I found that limit again Friday, Saturday, and again today.
Dr. G recommended another pro-biotic at bedtime, so my tummy has time to heal. Because the tummy aches? Not awesome. For ladies? It feels like that first-trimester-green-behind-the-gills-but-not-bad-enough-to-vomit-and-get-to-feeling-good feeling. For the menfolk? It feels like you grew a uterus and the ability to create life, and have morning sickness.
So it's breakfast, pills 1 hour later, then pro-biotics 2 hours after that. Happy tummy til dinner, then lather rinse repeat. so I only feel incapable of eating/moving/not grimacing maybe 3, 4 hours a day. Come to think of it, that might be just what I need, after feening for sugar like a crack-whore in a pay-by-the-hour flop-house, sweating through the detox on rented sheets. It's not like I can't skip a meal. Or 45. So it's rice, bananas, and other mild foods. G'bye, decaf with soy hazelnut creamer. It wasn't much, but it was all I had. I guess a nice therapeutic dose of wine is out, too. G'bye, glorious liquid antioxidants.
In other news, the smell from Princess' feet is peeling the paint. WTF? She's not even 8. And she keeps trying to trick me into smelling them, then she dissolves into a fit of giggles. It must have been the fumes that muddled my mind, deceiving me into the idea of a slumber party for 8. Eight. EIGHT!!!
Meanwhile, the freakin' hot tub is still a plumbing nightmare, and my patience for stairs is waning.
Next week, it's off to Ashland with Monkey Boy and his middle school for the Shakespeare festival (did I mention I love my kids' school? 3 days watching plays in Oregon? Beats the hell out of a field trip to the town historical society.)
Sky King continues to devote most of his waking hours to keeping me from whining, which has turned into a full-time job. For both of us.
A drama queen's work is never done. :::sigh:::
I upped my doxycycline last Monday (That sounds incredibly dirty. Which is why I keep saying it.) and all was going fine until Wednesday, when I found my limits on "antibiotics on a partially empty stomach". I found that limit again Friday, Saturday, and again today.
Dr. G recommended another pro-biotic at bedtime, so my tummy has time to heal. Because the tummy aches? Not awesome. For ladies? It feels like that first-trimester-green-behind-the-gills-but-not-bad-enough-to-vomit-and-get-to-feeling-good feeling. For the menfolk? It feels like you grew a uterus and the ability to create life, and have morning sickness.
So it's breakfast, pills 1 hour later, then pro-biotics 2 hours after that. Happy tummy til dinner, then lather rinse repeat. so I only feel incapable of eating/moving/not grimacing maybe 3, 4 hours a day. Come to think of it, that might be just what I need, after feening for sugar like a crack-whore in a pay-by-the-hour flop-house, sweating through the detox on rented sheets. It's not like I can't skip a meal. Or 45. So it's rice, bananas, and other mild foods. G'bye, decaf with soy hazelnut creamer. It wasn't much, but it was all I had. I guess a nice therapeutic dose of wine is out, too. G'bye, glorious liquid antioxidants.
In other news, the smell from Princess' feet is peeling the paint. WTF? She's not even 8. And she keeps trying to trick me into smelling them, then she dissolves into a fit of giggles. It must have been the fumes that muddled my mind, deceiving me into the idea of a slumber party for 8. Eight. EIGHT!!!
Meanwhile, the freakin' hot tub is still a plumbing nightmare, and my patience for stairs is waning.
Next week, it's off to Ashland with Monkey Boy and his middle school for the Shakespeare festival (did I mention I love my kids' school? 3 days watching plays in Oregon? Beats the hell out of a field trip to the town historical society.)
Sky King continues to devote most of his waking hours to keeping me from whining, which has turned into a full-time job. For both of us.
A drama queen's work is never done. :::sigh:::
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