Stomach: A slave that must accept everything that is given to it, but which avenges wrongs as slyly as does the slave. ~Emile Souvester
No sooner did we rid ourselves of winter colds then the winter stomach flu stopped by for a visit. I awoke in the deadest part of night to my husband bowing to the porcelain god. Back and forth from the bedroom to the bathroom he stumbled urgently for hours. Eventually he was emptied from the inside out but that didn't stop the onslaught of his intestinal convulsions. Sick, drained and pretty much dehydrated, he lay restless in bed for days, unable to sleep. Eventually he won back his health.
The very day he awoke well, I did not. Achy, chilly and out of sorts, I relinquished my grip on the world and fell into an oblivious three days of alternating sleep and one too many trips to the powder room. We are heading towards the road to recovery, although optimum health remains at arms length and not quite tangible yet. Surely soon, I will be myself again, back to filling these pages with something more worthy than a nauseous hiatus.