I don't like the drugs...

I'm sick. I hate being sick, and it's especially hard since I have no one to take care of me when I'm sick. I knew there would be times in which I miss having someone around, and I knew this would be one of them. I can't stand being sick. I'm not the type of person who gets a cold, coughs, sneezes, and goes about their daily life. I usually get violently ill. I was a sick baby growing up.

A lot of my sickness comes from stress I believe. In high school, I used to get sick the week after finals. I don't know why, but every year it was like clockwork. Maybe it was lack of sleep and everything from studying, but I'd usually miss the first few days after finals week. This week I've had 2 tests, the catalog I'm working on for work, and irregular sleeping and eating habits. I guess my life caught up to me and told me to take better care of my body.

True Story
Last year was one of the worst episodes I've had. I was up at my father-in-law's house for Christmas and they cooked ham. Ham hates me, it really screws up my stomach, which ends up hurting my ass, and the people in the immediate area of my ass. Anyway, I was good, ate some ham so no one would feel offended, and dealt with it. Eventually, it came. I was not going to do it at their house, that's for sure, it was a small apartment, that would've filled with an unpleasant aroma in seconds. So I held it. Now when I hold it, is when I get sick. Not sure why, but that's what always happens. I could feel my body getting hot, so I went on to the balcony, and puked into a small plant.

Eventually my wife caught on about what was going on, and we left, her driving, me dying in pain, both of us laughing about it at times. We got back to our apt and excruciating 35min later. By now my wife is furious at the thought of me being sick again (I had just been the week before, followed by her being sick after that). We're walking towards our apartment when:

Blaaaaah. So much for the bushes by the stairs. She continues up to the apt, I continue puking outside in the bushes. After a couple more times I run upstairs because I couldn't hold it much longer and hop on the toilet and promptly empty my colon. After a couple minutes of that, I clean up, then start to puke again. I start tossing my clothes off me because at this point, they'll just get in the way. My wife is changing in the bedroom getting ready to go to her mom's for more holiday cheer. She checks on me out of spousal obligation, and then heads to her mom.

I spent the next 4 hours of the night making sure that there was nothing left in my stomach or colon. My sides were hurting from puking, my ass was sore, I was a mess. Naked on the bathroom floor wrapped in a blanket when I was cold, bare ass naked when I was hot. The entire time alone.

My wife re-caught the bug a couple of days later, so she was sick, again. Being the nice man I am I was sure to remind her of how mad she got at me when I was sick twice. I loved taking care of her when she was sick, she was so dramatic that it was comical, and she loved to be pampered, and I loved to pamper her.