Sick of Myself

This is my sick face

I have to work a double today and I’m not happy about it. Magali asked me last night if I could and I said no. I thought about it, and decided I could; I just hate the last minute asking. Not that it was Magali’s fault. Dorian has had his birthday bbq planned for a while now and no one asked me to work, so it just pisses me off that Tropez knew about it and didn’t ask me sooner. I work 11-3 and as soon as I get home I just want to put my feet up until I have to be back in at 5pm. Mike and I watch an episode of Breaking Bad before I make us a couple turkey sandwiches with avocado, tomato, and mayo, then head back into work.

Unsurprisingly, I feel tired, but as I start setting up the bar I begin to feel nauseous. That’s weird. By 5:45 two girls walk in for happy hour. We’re chatting, everything is fine, but when Adeline comes in at 6 I get another wave of nausea and tell her so. “What did you eat today?” Just a turkey sandwich. And I made it. I think about the rest of me day…a bowl of cereal in the morning, coffee, and a Clif bar – nothing that should make me sick. She tells me to pull the trigger. Ugh. I can’t. I can’t believe I just had this conversation with Corrinne last night. I continue setting up and can’t stop feeling sick. Finally head into the bathroom and pace for a little. Leave without even trying to stick my finger down my throat. 10 minutes pass and I’m back in the bathroom. Just do it, Lindsay. Try to prepare myself. Finally, I do it, and a little comes up, but not much. There’s more coming but that would require me to continue sticking my finger down my throat and I’m just not up for it. Wash my hands and face and walk back out to the bar. Stick a mint in my mouth. It tastes gross, so I get down half and spit the rest out – that should have been a clear sign.

I know I need to throw up again. Waves keep coming. I’m leaning on the bar, trying to stay composed. Adeline, I’m going to try again. “OK, honey.” Pacing again in the bathroom. It’s as if my mind tells me I’m fine and I don’t have to throw up, but my body won’t let me leave the room. It’s one room so I can lock the door and be alone. I put my hands on my knees and talk out loud to myself. Count to three. This time, it’s a lot. I feel immediately better. I come out ready to work. 10 minutes later it’s back. You have got to be kidding me. Open a can of gingerale and take little sips. People at the bar ordered food and it’s in front of me, smelling horrible. Corrinne and Adeline are over by the bar so I tell them. I don’t know if I can make it all night. “You can go home.” Tropez left me the inventory to do. I did half this afternoon but I have to do the other half tonight. I’ll do it now before I leave. Oh God, no I won’t. “Lindsay, go home. You’re sick. Corrinne and I will do the inventory.” OK, OK, thank you. I hurry to clock out, grab a can of gingerale and head to my car.

Walk in the apartment and Mike is on the computer skyping with his parents. Take off my shoes, walk into the bathroom, tie my hair back, and kneel on the floor. This time I couldn’t stop if I tried. At least I’m home. Mike is still skyping. “You OK in there?” I continue to vomit. “Lindsay’s puking and she never pukes, so I gotta go.” He’s outside the door, asking if I’m OK. I can’t really answer at the moment. Mike can’t really open the door or he’ll hit me – our bathroom’s that small. “Lindsay, can I come in? You’re scaring me.” He finally pushes the door open as I’m breathing heavily, holding myself up. This is not normal. This is food poisoning.

Rinse my face and hands, change, and lay down. I do feel better. It’s a fleeting feeling of complete health right after throwing up. In the six years we’ve been together Mike has never seen me throw up like this. Not really my thing. It happens two more times during the night, and each time I have to initiate it. You’d think I’d get used to it but I dread it more and more as the night goes on. I count to three but it turns into 10. It’s kind of crazy how your body knows when something shouldn’t be in there. My body really hates me tonight. Toss and turn all night, waiting to see daylight through the blinds.

*Matt Sweet

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