I am sick in a way I have only been sick on two previous occasions. This is a type of sickness that occurs, mercifully, only a few times in a person's life. This sickness appears suddenly, ruins your life for a day or two, and then vanishes to wreak havoc on the stomach/lower intestines of some other poor bastard.
I know, I know, you're thinking, "Sounds like a stomach flu, or your average 24 hour virus. What's the big deal?" The big deal here is that with this particular strain of virus, one's projectile vomiting is accompanied by one's inability to, while experiencing the unpleasantness of projectile vomiting, control the muscles in and around one's hind parts. In short, each retching heave is accompanied by an explosive propulsion of diarrhea. Dignified, no?
The other primary attribute of this type of virus seems to be it's inability to infect under private circumstances. By this I mean, one will never contract a virus in this particular strain on a three day weekend at home when they have no plans and no place to be. This virus not only seeks to destroy your digestive system, but your dignity as well. The second time I was afflicted with this scourge, I had just met a lovely young woman, fallen unhealthily in love with her, and made plans to grow old with her. We were having people over to watch the Superbowl and have some drinks and some fried food and do what college kids pretending to be adults do. The evening went swimmingly, everyone had a good time, and the two of us were off to bed. At about 3AM something didn't feel right. I went to the bathroom and vomited a thick clump of near undigested food. I went back to bed dreading what might come next, and for good reason. I spent the next two days waylayed by this freakin' virus, unable to move except in mighty efforts of puking and shitting.
The special lady friend was left to fend for herself, which was bad because I was supposed to take her to a doctor in Dallas to get a shot in her spine that Monday morning following the Superbowl. Seriously. Her spine. She had to drive the hour-and-a-half all the way back to our tiny college town with a largely numb lower body to her charming and attractive boyfriend who no longer seemed so charming or attractive...then she got the unholiness. There's nothing like seeing/hearing your morning angel vomit and shit and yell for water to bring you back to reality.
So what are the circumstances now? Well, I am at work. I am in a hotel. The hotel has thin walls. My coworkers are in rooms on either side of me. I spent all night vomiting and shitting and fighting a fever as my orchestra of bodily functions kept my coworkers awake. This afternoon, one of the guys I work with brought up some tortilla chips and a liter of Sprite. I asked him if I had kept him awake and he responded with a feeble, "I thought I heard some...coughing." Bless him. How do you tell your coworker you heard him getting straight torn up late into the night? Right now I feel better. I think the virus has moved on to the next poor soul. And thank God. I have to drive two hours back home tomorrow. Can you imagine puking and pooing your way across an entire state?