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Wednesday, February 14, 2007
The St. Valentine's Day massacre
Sorry for the recent lack of posts filled with blurry cell phone photos and talk of pizza chains. On Sunday night I came down with a nasty stomach virus. For the most part, I've been living in my bathroom ever since. Two things the past few days have taught me:
This morning....oh, God...this morning. If you didn't wind up at St. Vincent's Hospital at 3 AM clutching your stomach, there's a good chance you're having a better Valentine's Day than me. Three hours. a battle with a hospital gown, an offer a saltwater drip and a $75 copay later, I was released. The diagnosis? Dehydration brought on by excessive vomiting and, yeah, I'll throw it out here: nine straight hours of diarrhea ( a personal record!). The suggested treatment: sleep, Gatorade and slowly administered dry toast.
This afternoon I'm proud to report that I may finally be on the road to recovery. In the past few hours I've managed to hold down two pieces of toast and 12 ounces of lemon Gatorade, the most food my stomach has been able to handle in nearly three days. While I'm busy recuperating in front of TV Land reruns of Star Trek (that "Enemy Within" episode where Captain Kirk splits into two is killer) and New Super Mario Brothers, here's a few links related to every year's worst holiday:
Oh, boy! Time for more dry toast.