The Five Stages of the Stomach Flu

Denial

I woke up yesterday morning feeling awful. And when I say awful ... I mean awful.

I was sore -- must be from working out.
I had a massive headache -- must be because I need caffeine.
I was exhausted -- must've gone to bed later than I thought.
My stomach felt like it had a brick in it -- must be because I'm not drinking enough fluids.

In any case, I jumped in the shower and realized that I hadn't worked out in over a week, I drink caffeine never, I went to bed nice and early, and I drank a glass of water right before I drifted off.

And yet...

It never occurred to me that I was sick. I never get sick.

Anger

This came later. So let's move on to the next step, shall we?

Bargaining

I drove to work still feeling awful. I also looked awful, because I hadn't had the energy to lift my hairdryer.

So I took my wet-bird's-nest hair to Jamba Juice, and ordered a smoothie with a shot of energy, please and thank you. I trudged into work, sipping on my smoothie, sat down, and immediately broke into a sweat.

This is when it occurred to me that I might be sick. So even though it hurt to type, I Googled "flu symptoms."

Now I'm not here to tell you what to do. But I hope that what you walk away with after reading this post is that you absolutely should not, under any circumstances whatsoever, EVER, Google "flu symptoms" when you are feeling poorly.

Because you will (I repeat, you WILL) come across a Wikipedia entry that informs you that, on average, roughly 40,000 people die in the U.S. every year from the flu. And then you will start to wonder if this is the beginning of the end for you.

But wait a minute! I had a rumble in the tummy-jungle! That isn't the flu! That is the stomach flu (which is a misnomer, BTW. There is no such thing as the stomach flu. Its proper name is gastroentiritis).

So I Googled "stomach flu symptoms" because I had learned nothing (NOTHING) in the previous five minutes, and I found out that the "stomach flu" is much more manageable, so long as you have access to Gatorade and a toilet, which I did.

The diagnoses was in: I had the stomach flu.

Depression

But just to be sure, I texted my best friend, who happens to be a physicians assistant. It never hurts to hear a medical professional tell you that you are not going to die.

I decided to leave work and put myself straight to bed (after telling my boss that I had the stomach flu, in the saddest voice of all time), and on the drive home my BFF responded. {I'm paraphrasing}

Could be stomach flu. OR, could be tonsilitis, strep, appendicitis, or exploded kidneys.

I crawled into bed and tried not to think about the potentially catastrophic things that may or may not have been happening inside of my body.

Anger, cont.

The upside, I thought, of all this illness was that I was going to get a free pass for the day, which, let's face it working-mother-of-two, I never get. I mean, c'mon -- how many mornings has the first thought in my head been I wish I could lie in bed all day.

Well, yesterday was my day; I was going to get to do exactly that. My husband had the kids, and my Netflix queue was calling my name.

The flaws in this brilliant plan presented themselves almost immediately -- I couldn't get comfortable. No matter how many pillows I fluffed, no matter how many ice packs I used, and no matter how many Tylenols I desperately popped, everything still hurt. Law & Order SVU started to sound too loud. The grilled cheese sandwich my husband made me for lunch started to make my stomach cave in on itself. I started to wonder if indeed there was a God, then why did he hate me so much?

And WHO, by the way, was the idiot that even coined the phrase "Lie around in bed all day." How did that ever become a good thing? Why has THAT been the thing I've been longing for my entire freaking life?

You know what lying around in bed all day gets you? Sore limbs. That's right, sore limbs -- and a splitting headache to boot, and this lying-in-bed-all-day fantasy is total bullshit, I'm telling you ... BULL. SHIT.

Acceptance

I finally fell asleep.

When I woke up, my bedroom was dark, but the TV screen was bright ... SO bright. I turned it off, and wondered where my family was, and I started to miss them. Being sick sucks.

An hour later, I heard my kids come bouncing through the front door. They sounded so happy. And soon after that, my husband peeked his head in and asked how I was doing. I'm okay, I croaked. The kids missed you, he told me. They said to tell you that they really hope you feel better soon.

And then my heart exploded and I died.

Just kidding, but almost.

Bring them to the door, I pleaded, as though I was on my deathbed (which I just might have been, according to my best friend).

So they came to the door of my bedroom, and my little family read bedtime stories together, just like we do each and every night.

Except this time, my kids held up the books, and showed me the pictures, and read me the words, because they knew that I was too sick and that was okay -- they pick up the slack when I need them to.

And I thought to myself, If I ever get better, I must remember to stop worrying about how these two kids of mine are going to turn out. Because look at them -- they are going to be just fine.