6. Puke
6. Puke
‘Things are spinning,’ I said as I sat down in the plastic chair.
You told me to put my head between my knees, but that only made me want to throw up too.
‘I wonder if it was something I ate.’
You rubbed my back.
‘I need to lie down on the floor, I think.’ I laid down on the floor and closed my eyes. The room felt like it was rocking back in forth. The frequency was too high for it to be the oceans, the pulsing electrically intense, rocking on some high tension wires.
You asked me if maybe I caught a bug somewhere. I mean, the kids have all sorts of stuff, don’t think. I murmured that I had no idea, but I hoped not. I didn’t want to get everyone else sick as well.
Yeah, you don’t think I had a bug, though, that didn’t make sense. None of the kids had gotten sick yet, where would you have gotten it?
I spread my arms out on the floor and concentrated on breathing. I had a couple of hot flashes. Were they illness, panic, dread? I didn’t know, but I need to breath through them.
You asked me what to do with my dinner, and I didn’t reply. The curtains were already drawn, it was dark out already and the kids sat at the table poking or throwing their food around. They didn’t seem to notice that I was sick, maybe I wasn’t, we still weren’t sure- maybe I was tired. I wanted to just be tired, I understood being tired.
My mouth filled with Saliva, and I didn’t think that was a good sign. I didn’t remember from last time, but I think I read it- I read definitely that that is a sign of nausea. It made my breathing worse, which is silly now that I think about it – I already knew that I was nauseous, I don’t know what the big deal was then, really, what was the big deal.
You told me then, that remember, you weren’t that scared anymore. Being sick is terrible, but it isn’t deadly. It wasn’t dangerous. This wasn’t dangerous, you will be alright. I didn’t feel like replying.
The kids kept ignoring me. What if this turned out bad, what would I have to do if everyone got sick? What if we all got sick at the same time? What would we do.
My body felt full and wet like an old sponge that was left sitting in the bottom of the sink. My stomach made some noises.
‘This doesn’t seem right,’ I said, moving my hands up onto my stomach.
You told me that I have gotten ill during dinner before, this is something that I seem to do. Do you remember that time your friend visited? You just stood up and got sick in the bathroom, out of the blue. It was the weirdest thing, do you remember that?
I didn’t feel like trying to remember that. I ignored you.
I turned over onto my hands and knees and stood up. Crouched over, I walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the toilet. I closed the door so no one would hear me. I figured I might as well be sick, if I was going to be sick. I stood there staring at the porcelain bowl. We needed to change the lighting in the bathroom, I noticed. The fluorescent light over the vanity made it feel like an old hospital and a storage room at the same time. The flicker of the light when I turned it on made the whole place even more sickly.
I got onto my knees and puked.
---
It hurts to imagine what it is like to be nauseous, let alone you, in this state. I need to stop, this is silly. The sun is out, there are yellow tulips in front of me on the dining table, There is health and happiness now; I need to stop this.
---
I puked, and it felt better, I don’t know what to say. I remember being desperate, hoping it was over, maybe this is all that I needed to do, I just had to get this out and then everything would be fine. The night would be OK, maybe I would even have an appetite before I went to bed and had to breastfeed the baby tonight.
I cleaned the toilet, the floor, the sink with bleach. I cleaned til it stank, until I had to go out and lie on the couch. You were already out there with the kids. You looked up at me questioningly.
I just looked back at you, wondering how red my eyes, how spotted my cheeks were at that moment. What would they look like tomorrow, what would they look like Monday?
‘Move over,’ I said, ‘I need to lie down.’ You scooted over to make space for me, dragging the kids to the other side of the couch.
You asked me if I was alright. I didn’t reply.
‘I feel like I’m dying,’ I said. You ignored me.
You told me this will all be over soon, you will feel better before you know it. I closed my eyes and put my hands underneath my temple. I wanted to wrap them around my stomach, but it felt cancerous and infected, something that might crimp into a discarded pamphlet and revolt if I was to give it any attention.
Is there something you want to watch? No, there wasn’t anything I wanted to watch.
Would you like some water? You should stay hydrated. I agreed, I thought that I should have some water. I didn’t know if it would stay down.
I couldn’t lift my head, so you went and got a rubber dragonfly straw from the cutlery drawer. You dragged the table over so that the glass would be right by head. Don’t touch the table, try not to touch anything, we both thought to ourselves.
---
I hate to write this in the first person, why am I putting you in my mind?
---
I drank some water and didn’t open my eyes. I felt out for the cup with my hand and dragged the straw to my mouth. I didn’t know if I would last the night.
Do you feel worse? I felt worse. Maybe you should go try to puke again.
I went to the bathroom and puked again. The light was already on, steady, expecting me.
---
This is not how I want to remember this night, this is not you.
---
I stayed on the floor of the bathroom, holding the spray bottle of bleach in my hand. I rested my arm on the toilet seat, and my forehead on my arm. I was panting, sweating, I would have lied down, yes that might have felt better, but the journey to the floor was too arduous, I couldn’t even bear the idea.
I woke up once in the hospital. I saw the light in the window, and the heaviness of the blanket. The room swum briefly before it became crystal, I think I knew where it was.
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