Saturday, February 4, 2017

Dead Brat Worrying, Chesed Muflah, and Vera

"You're going to worry yourself to death." Whoever came up with up with that phrase, I must be a reincarnation of said individual.

Lately, according to several news reports that there is this stomach bug from hell going around, making people extremely sick for about a day or two, and then leaving them contagious for up to 12 or 13 more days afterwards. In my day, it was referred to as "the 24-hour virus." You shat and projected out anything and everything the virus didn't like in your stomach. But after that trial period was over, man you felt clean as a thistle whistle or something. I think the kids today call it "detoxing," but that's neither here nor there.

And if that weren't bad enough, there are reports about food poisoning taking place at some of my favorite fast food chains. Unlike the stomach "flu" or norovirus, this is more of a "half an hour virus," as it rips up and down your digestive tract.

In any event, neither instances are part of a complete breakfast.

Nor is what I had the unfortunate pleasure of experiencing over the past 48 hours.

It had developed like a normal 24-hour virus, until I became severely dehydrated. I asked some of my Facebook friends if they had suggestions what to do for food poisoning. My friends are the greatest; they chipped in about 15 different remedies (including death, heh) to overcome whatever was putting me into a trifold position. It was when I began choking on my own projectile I decided to call both a time out and 911.

At the emergency room inside a local hospital (believe me, Cleveland has more hospitals than it knows what to do with), I was directed to a narrow space of waiting area where it was more like an urgent care facility. I was given a liter (only in medical situations do we American shitfeet actually use the metric system) of saline water solution intravenously along with two rounds of an anti-emetic, or anti-nausea medicine, and some acetaminophen. Finally, in the recovery sector, I was given some ginger ale, some graham crackers, and sent on my way home.

When I get home, the pain travels from the stomach to the head. What the fuck is going on here?

Thank goodness for payday, because I would have no other way to even get to the drugstore without the help of a rideshare service. Yes, I was so violently ill that I couldn't even sit up for more than four minutes at a time before I had to lie down, face down, in bed, let alone walk a meager 1/3 of a mile to my pharmacy to get a prescription of anti-emetics. (Oh, but I am supposed to watch my spending so I can save money, right?  Put your money where your mouth is next time, sucker.)

Throughout yesterday, I drifted in and out of sleep, waking up only to use the latrine, drinking unholy amounts of sports drinks, and nibbling on cheesy rabbit crackers.

Then, about 3:30 this morning, I said "enough is enough." This isn't food poisoning. And this sure isn't the 24-hour virus. What in the holy shit is kicking my own ass?

So this brat decided to play Detective Gadget. Shut up, you face.
  • My go to pain reliever, ibuprofen, was making the pain worse in my head, which is rare.
  • The cold and sinus medication I bought did absolutely nothing to make the pain go away, so my body was telling me that it wasn't a nasty cold or sinus virus
  • Both ends of the bodily function spectrum were spitting fire faster than a candle lit on each side
  • I was absolutely sensitive to light, sound, and smell; indicating my head was under a massive migraine situation
At that point, I had to go to the nearest 24-hour grocery store. Once there, I went straight for some bananas and then to the pharmaceuticals. As I was about to pick out the standard in migraine medicine, I noted a similar medicine, made by the same manufacturer, but with one less ingredient; aspirin. Aspirin is one of those NSAID shits (non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug), like ibuprofen. Plus, I already had a sensitive stomach, and too many NSAIDs in the tum-tum can cause more riff raff. And, the medicine had something that would help aid in pain relief that I couldn't ingest by drinking carbonated soft beverages; caffeine. In the end, I opted for and purchased the aspirin-free migraine medicine.

Not even three minutes after taking the (headache x infinity) +1 reliever, the head pain was 78% gone.

When I returned home, ecstatic that I finally found relief from my murky medical misery, I was ready to give no fucks and take no shits.

Then I noticed that, although my head was pain less, I had some ringing in my ears. Tinnitus. I have had tinnitus before; hell, I think I live with the sumbitch. I have had tinnitus my entire life; ever since I was a toddler, hearing my heart beat through my left ear drum.

To recap: diarrhea, nausea, vomiting, migraines, tinnitus, body aches, chills, low grade fever.

Drum roll, please.

*drum rolls*

*types in symptoms into the search engine taskbar*

"These are physical symptoms of PTSD and generalized anxiety."

Are you fucking serious? ARE YOU GOT DAMN FUCKING SERIOUS?

My got damn anxiety tried to choke a bitch? Really? Fuck, if my brain isn't trying to kill me, then my fucking got damn body is.

How in the holy shit does this happen? And more importantly, how in the holy shit do I stOP THIS FROM HAPPENING AGAIN BECAUSE OH MY G-D THAT WAS THE WORST FUCKING FEELING IN THE ENTIRE GOT DAMN WORLD.

After it sunk in that my anxiety, of all things, tried to kill me, I laid there in bed. Then the bells from a church across from where I live struck twelve o'clock, letting folks in the neighborhood hear the time and a message delivered in song. The song the church played was "Amazing Grace."

The Hebrew for "Amazing Grace" is "Chesed Muflah (say: KHEH-sed moof-LAH)."

Dry eyes be damned; tears fell from my eyes like expectations promised by too many people.

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