byootaful

It’s been a busy week, full of twists and turns and unexpected surprises. Firstly, my Dad who has been staying with us since Sunday after having an operation, had to call an ambulance while I was at work and was rushed to hospital on Tuesday. On Wednesday, he had to go in for surgery. He’s still in hospital and doing well, in high spirits, but it was still a nasty shock to get a phone call from my Mum telling me Dad was on his way to hospital. Any phone call that starts with, “Don’t panic, but…” is one you just don’t want to ever take.

It was Phill’s birthday on Thursday, he’s 23. Since he’s nearly exactly six months younger than me, I like to joke that he’s no longer my toy-boy… until I turn 24 in December, anyway. Mum came for dinner on Wednesday night, then on Friday night Phill and I went out to celebrate with friends and then last night we went to a housewarming. Upon arriving home at about midnight, I mentioned to Phill that I wasn’t feeling well (not alcohol induced since I hadn’t drank at all). Fifteen minutes later, I was hugging the toilet. For the next four hours, I was rushing back and forth. I hate vomiting. I think it’s the grossest thing you’ll ever have to do in your life.

I called in sick to work early this morning and I’m glad I did. I slept until 11am and I’m now on the couch, wrapped up in my doona. My stomach is still feeling queasy – so far I’ve managed to eat two slices of raisin toast and drink a glass of water. I’m trying to keep my fluids up, but there’s something about a belly full of water that makes me feel sick.

Phill’s been a great nurse but he knew not to come in the bathroom while it was, err, occupied. I’m rather particular about that. Hopefully it won’t be happening again for a long while, fingers crossed.

Anyway, I’m buggered (I can’t believe how much typing this has tired me out!) so I’m going to stop there. I’m going to try to visit some of your blogs today as I have over five hundred new posts to read. Then I think I might sleep again, because sleep … is good.