Somewhere, somehow, we've picked up this freeloading germ that is systematically liquifying our intestinal tracts.
I'm moving swiftly into day number 3 with this bug, and my butt is all but married to the toilet lid now. Liz ended up at the hospital last night for fluids because she had become so dehydrated. I've been considering the hospital all day, but unfortunately can't go beyond a 15 foot radius from the bathroom.
I know I've lost a good 10 to 15 pounds, and at this rate, I should be fairly thin by my birthday in August. Maybe everyone can pool their presents into one large gift certificate for the plastic surgeon.
The doctor said we should eat this BRAT diet: Bananas, Rice, Applesauce, and Toast. I've eaten a little Rice and Toast, and had some chicken broth, but this is an awful diet. I wish BRAT stood for Beef, Roasted chicken, Angel hair pasta, and Tomato sauce.
I must admit, though, that I've gotten way more than the usual amount of sympathy than is usually doled out in the event that I'm ill. Barb and Doug have been over several times, my wife has made toast for me, even though she's sick too, and everyone keeps asking how I'm doing. I love it, although, I probably should go and check on Liz and make sure that the sympathy is being appropriately reciprocated.
Feel free to call, but I wouldn't come over. That is, unless you have a full body chemical warfare suit that you can just throw on over your clothes. We don't have a decontamination chamber, but I could hose you down and throw bleach on you in the driveway...just a thought.
I must go now...nature's calling, AGAIN.
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