Okay I know this one is going to get pretty dramatic – but bear with me here. I have been a little spoiled, privileged girl really the majority of my life; so when I say this is the first time I have been completely alone in my life, I mean ever in my life.

And that includes being sick and alone.

I’m talking stomach flu, shit your pants in public sick – not IBS flares or hungover headaches.

So as any usual citizen of society, I contracted a usual viral stomach bug, however, it tended to be exactly forty times worse with an IBS flare. It started innocently on a Wednesday afternoon. My usual Taco Bell rolled chicken tacos (if you haven’t tried these you are missing out) with cheese and a large Diet Pepsi was not digesting as well as it usually does. I was sitting at my office desk and felt a grumble in my lower abdomen.

“…I’m talking stomach flu, shit your pants in public sick..”

Uh oh, this can’t be good.

Back to work to ignore it and pretend it never happened. Except a few minutes later, it was much more intense – and urgent. Thank god my desk is not far from the office break room.

I went home early and stayed home for the next three days. Three days of not being able to keep any fluids down, nobody to bring me soup or 7-up, and having to throw my stained sweat pants on and still doing the ‘adult things’ in my house that The Ex used to be responsible for.

Let me tell you – I was feeling pretty rough and pitiful for myself. On about the third day of living in the bathroom, I figured I better go and get myself checked up.

Getting up, driving to urgent care, and waiting in the lobby almost killed me. With my stained sweats and messy claw clip hair, I dragged myself up to the desk to check in, asking for a puke bag just in case. My hands trembled and my head was pounding. The bags under my eyes had knock off Gucci bags with them. I found my seat in the waiting room and pulled my knees up to my chest.

They of course, wanted to start medications for me to keep me from dry heaving every 15 minutes, and the doc explained to, “go right to the pharmacy and get these” after our appointment. Ugh, nobody to go pick up my medications for me either. And unlike my groceries and food, where I live, we cannot get our prescriptions delivered.

So to the pharmacy I went. By this time, I had been away from the safe space of my home and private bathroom for about 3.5 hours. Uff da. The nausea was setting in pretty good and my legs were feeling weak. The line was five people deep. With focused breathing and tight concentration, I take the sixth spot in line. Oh shit, left my vomit bag in the car.

The line does not move for what feels like hours (probably only 3 minutes). I was wishing I had my vomit bag and feeling pretty lightheaded right when one of my work clients recognized me (one I’m not very fond of.)

“Hi, it’s Cheryl! Looking pretty rough today are we or is this just your natural, outside of work appeal?”

HUH. Why is this happening to me, when I live in a very urban area, and literally never see anybody I know or recognize, and of all people – fucking Cheryl. Of course. I gritted my teeth as we chit chatted for a little bit, too much for my malnourished brain to process. Then she left to finish her grocery shopping.

Jesus Christ, please do not let me see any other people I know.

I was huddled over when the cashier finally called my named. I gave her my information and then with a grim smile, she said, “Go ahead and have a seat honey it’s going to be a few minutes.”

I don’t have a few minutes. At any minute, my stomach was going to spew what little acid and bile it had left, and who knows what will come out the other end. Reluctantly, I had a seat on the wire garden patio set that was next to the pharmacy aisle. I laid my head down on my arms and closed my eyes – listening to my heartbeat and feeling my pulse in my ears.

A few minutes turned into a long, agony-filled 28 minutes. I had my head down the whole time and figured it would be about time to get up and see what the status was. However, I forgot that I was ill and extremely malnourished, and jumped up a little too quickly. Suddenly the room spun around me and I could not figure out my bearings. My eyes wavered back and forth, and I knew I was going to vomit.

Thank God I found the trash can by the pharmacy window and loudly, unattractively dry heaved in public. I wanted to crawl into the trash myself and die. Suddenly, I felt a hand rubbing my back.

“Ah sweetie, this is embarrassing for you. You should not go out in public if you have had too much tequila the night before.”

Fucking Cheryl.

I got my stomach meds, held my vomit bag tightly on my drive home, and crawled back in bed. As I was beginning to drift off to sleep, the last thought that I can remember was, “if I don’t wake up from this nap, my pets might have to go days without food before some realized I was dead.”

I know this is dramatic of me and quite really, it was a mild stomach bag. However, I wanted to share my feelings because it is days like these that are confusing to process post-divorce. I have never regretted leaving The Ex, but I did appreciate the days when he was almost bare minimum. He would pick up my prescriptions from the pharmacy and drive me to urgent care.

“..another day on your own is another day you made it.”

It’s okay to miss the people we may have left, and it’s okay to miss the good parts of the relationship. But the important thing to remember is another day on your own is another day you made it.

Love you (or just me? if this is a personal diary with no readers?) forever and tata for now turds,

❤ Double D