I woke up with a terrible stomachache and accompanying nausea this morning. Whether I’m getting some sort of bug, had too much Dora frosting, or suffering from post-cholecystectomy syndrome (Hee, I got to use post-cholecystectomy syndrome in a sentence) remains to be seen.
I tried to ignore it at first, but it quickly took over. I told Paxton – our resident expert on stomach care, though he’s usually the patient – that I really wasn’t feeling well, and asked if he could help out. He answered in the affirmative, and promptly offered to bring me some Tums, a bucket, and some movies.
I declined the bucket, but I did take some Tums, and am currently watching my second movie.
Everett filled my water glass with seltzer.
They made Tegan lunch, and Spencer got her in and out of her booster seat.
They covered me with an afghan.
They’re playing quietly, and sweetly, and keep asking how I’m feeling.
I hate feeling sick. But if I have to, I can think of no better place, and no better caregivers.