That very evening.
For twelve hours.
I slept (or didn't sleep) on the couch and raced to the bathroom every thirty minutes. It reminded me of labor, where the pain stops just long enough to doze, and then it's at you again.
I can see why sleep deprivation is used for interrogations. I was promising this bug and God anything (I'll never eat pizza again), if they would just let me sleep. The Norovirus is an ugly enemy. I think it looks like this.
Then, there's the sore butt thing. Let's just be honest. Toxins repeatedly coming out your backside begin to wreak havoc. Vaseline was my best friend for about 24 hours. Maybe that's too much information.
Once the symptoms stopped, I was pooped. Or pooped out, I should say. For two days, I lay on the sofa, sipped ginger ale and passed in and out of consciousness. I think my husband checked on me now and then, but I don't remember. He must have brought me the pineapple/mango smoothie that tasted so wonderful.
Today, I got up and got dressed. It wore me out. I was delighted to see I have lost four pounds, but am aware that as soon as I eat a carrot, they will return.
I don't feel like looking at food yet, so I'm taking it slow. For breakfast, I ate half a piece of toast and a chocolate-covered marshmallow.
Now, I'm going to take a nap.
Hopefully, the next post will be less disgusting.