God dammit I was sick this morning. Woke up to PAIN! Why my body insists on waking me up just to say "By the way madam, today's pain will be located in the torso area, wouldn't want you to miss it," I'll never know. If it's not careful, I'm going to punish it with another tattoo.
Spent the hours between 6am and 8am going from bed to toilet (fruitless) to bed again, thrashing around in agony, in too much pain to even cry, repeating my well-worn mantra of "I don't know how much more of this I can take." My stomach swelled to three times its size - kinda like the Grinch's heart, but without the associated candy canes and annoying Canadian comedian (Jim Carrey's Canadian, right?)
Managed to vomit most spectacularly (any phobias I had about being sick have long since departed - now I understand how bulimics do it) and, examining the underside of my toilet realised how grubby it is. No wonder I'm sick. My parents' toilet is much cleaner - I look forward to next being sick at their house.
I mention this because IBS, I found out the other day, is associated with fibromyalgia, so now I have an excuse to talk about my bowel movements which, I think, means I've turned into Kenneth Williams.
And just to leave you with this bon mot, and something interesting for the search engines to pick up on, taking 32 tablets per day (I counted 'em) really turns things chemically inside you. When I burp I swear I can taste plutonium. And everything smells hazardously chemically - vom', wee, etc.
Oh joy.
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