Thursday 24 January 2008

Post-Norovirus

12:30am Monday 21/1/8. But Why is asleep. She will get up early for work as she has some pressing stuff to get finished by 9:30am. She is dreaming. In the dream, she has a very sore abdomen, which makes sense, as she has been training so hard she has broken not one but two rowing machines.

12:31am I was dragged from my dreams by my conscious and subconscious self having a disagreement. My body occupied that space between sleep and wakefulness, alternately paying attention to the opposing forces, waiting to see who would win.

Subconsciousness: Psst, Wake up!
Consciousness: Hrrrrugh?? What time is it?? [Looks at clock.] 12:30am? I know I'm having an early start, but 12:30am early wasn't quite what I meant. And I don't care how many sadly mistaken blackbirds are singing, this is completely inappropriate wakefulness. Now shut up and sleep.
SubC: Erm, hello? Stomach pain...?!
C: Yes, yes, yes... It was a dream, remember? Now shut up yer moaning and let me sleep. [Conscious self shuffles to a more comfortable position and tries to sleep.]
SubC: Look, dude, I've tried to break this to you gently, but you leave me with no choice...
[Conscious self is surprised to find that she is hurtling across the landing with the rapidly clarifying aim of being in close proximity to the toilet in time for the commencement of 12 hours of projectile vomiting and explosive diarrhoea.]

And a very grim twelve hours they were, too.

Now, I know that vomiting is unpleasant. I have vomited previously. It has, without exception, been unpleasant. It may have provided some relief, yet I am fully aware that vomiting per se is not something which I eagerly anticipate. Despite this, every time I vomit, I am for some reason caught off-guard by the sheer unpleasantness of it all: beforehand, the stomach gripes, the excess saliva production, the adoption of the pre-puke, toilet-hugging posture, the retching, the sight, the sensation, the sounds, the smell...

The first session was unpleasant enough. The monotony of the puke/wait-to-puke/puke/wait-to-puke/repeat-as-necessary cycle was only slightly relieved by the intermittent requirement for urgent emission of diarrhoea.

I was getting rather bored of the unceasing necessity to puke and crap. Eventually, when I seemed all puked- and crapped-out, I toddled back to bed and tried to replace some of those fluids.

Big mistake.

A couple of minutes later I was back at the toilet, rejecting all the water I'd taken on and any other fluids kicking around for good measure. And this time, the lemon-fresh smell normally associated with the toilet was conspicuous by its absence, replaced with that special scent of sickness - the one that lingers around hospitals - a special blend of cleaning products and the products of diseased bodies. The first session was unpleasant enough, and it would only get worse as the night wore on...

Another abortive trip back to bed, a couple of sips of water and a few moments of feverish sleep later, the cycle repeated itself.

And so on...

And so on...

Some of these were vomit-only excursions, others required a delicate judgement of the direction and timing of emissions, and an unfeasible chunk of coordination and reflexes to avoid carpet disasters. I could rather have done with a handy bucket to provide for both eventualities, however, the bucket was up a flight of stairs and, on Sunday night, climbing those stairs constituted an insurmountable feat of athleticism, and, more pressingly, would have placed me worryingly remote from a toilet.

Two loo-rolls later, I admitted defeat on the dehydration front. I'd had enough of the routine, gave up on trying to drown the pesky norovirus, and collapsed into bed for a couple of days.

I guess it's what comes from rowing on the cleanest Metropolitan sewer river in Europe...

5 comments:

Random Reflections said...

I read this while eating my breakfast, I think this may have been a mistake...

But Why? said...

Random,
I do apologise. Hmm. Perhaps I should have posted a warning at the start...?

DJ Kirkby said...

Urgh, I have a vomit phobia remember????!!!! Urgh, urgh, urgh! I bet you still go back out rowing again you addict...

Reading the Signs said...

Good one, Dr. Warum, I actually felt I was there with you. Hoping that this acts as some kind of homoeopathic innoculation against getting the real thing myself, and glad to read that this is a post-post. Wishing you a good recovery.
(Listening to Albinoni's Adagio or Pachelbel's Canon would probably be a good thing.)

But Why? said...

DJ,
Again, perhaps I should have posted a warning... something along the lines of, "Warning, this post contains semi-graphic descriptions of diarrhoea and vomiting, which some readers may find distressing"? And you are quite right - other than skipping a few midweek sessions, I am back on the water as if losing three day's nutrition was really no big deal...

Signsikins,
What a fabulous idea - virtual homeopathic immunity. I do hope it works - let me know. If you don't suffer from Norovirus/similar within the year, I might (as a public service, you understand) branch out into other afflictions I have had including the common cold, Zambezi lung, weird-exploding-head-infection-illness-thing, and working in the public sector. Something for everyone to look forward to...

Recovery-wise, I found developing a short-lived obsession with hydration, sleep and sports nutrition for recovery seemed to do the trick, at least, sufficiently well for me to put myself on the water again this weekend. (Will I ever learn? Probably not...)

Deepali,
Welcome. My sincere apologies for inflicting a post about diarrhoea and vomiting on you as a new guest here. It's not the way I usually welcome people, it's just that, well, you sort of popped over following a rough couple of days. I'm very happy to do the tag, but being an immensely dull and boring person, I may struggle to think of six personal quirks (and pigs may yet be seen landing at Heathrow Airport...)