Some of you (ahem, Dani) may have noticed a lack of postage lately by moi. Well, there’s a reason. At first I was dallying because I wanted to get some photos from our trip to Cabo on here and tell you all about it, got super busy with work upon my return to said work, then my health took a nosedive. Being the ever-divulgent one that I am about all things me-centric, I will tell you what happened so you know I am not neglecting you, Dear Reader.
I awoke last Friday morning at 3:00 a.m. to a pain in my stomach and then barfed my guts out for awhile. Oh great, I thought. That spinach I ate last night was maybe NOT so restockable on the shelves of Trader Joe’s after all. I lay on the couch so as not to wake the slumbering Derek should another attack of The Hurlies come my way and watched what I always watch when I feel like crap and it happens to be on at 4:00 a.m.: So I Married An Axe Murderer (besides, of course, Aliens, Showgirls, Flashdance, Roadhouse and Blazing Saddles -- all comfort food movies). I just so freaking love Mike Meyers playing his own father, singing Rod Stewart songs and mangling the words. I love the best friend cop who whines at his boss that he doesn’t yell at him enough and he wanted to be Serpico and his boss is all “Sounds like somebody needs a hug!” But I REALLY love Phil Hartman playing Vicki, the Alcatraz tour guide (RIP, Phil -- we miss you, dude).
So then I start to feel that familiar old achey feeling in my bones. Neat. I have the flu. I call in sick and proceed to watch every single movie on HBO, Movie Channel, IFC and Sundance, and read every single Real Simple and In Style mag in the house that I have been neglecting. Twice. I can’t eat anything because the pain in my stomach will not allow anything but the stray saltine cracker to pass my lips.
The whole weekend goes by.
Still sick. Still pain in my stomach. Still can’t do anything. Don’t have even the faintest desire to try to look cute. Feel sorry for Derek, people. He had to live with this.
So by Monday, nothing having gotten better with my stomach, I start to panic. Something is really wrong. So between bouts of crying like a big wuss and then being angry that my body is not fixing itself, I manage to drag my sorry ass into my local urgent care clinic.
Guess what? I have an ulcer. Apparently they can be brought on by a stomach virus. Oh, how marvelous for me! I was prescribed Nexium, which stops the production of the stomach acid to allow the stomach to heal itself. I have to take it for a month. I was also prescribed “bland foods”.
Derek and I sat and discussed it later. We went over diet options. Here is what I can eat:
Here is what I cannot eat:
Everything in the universe that is good and delicious and tasty and satisfying and fun.
In the ensuing feeling-sorry-for-myselfness, it was decided that I should name my evil nemesis that is residing in my person in order for me to best conquer said demon and resume a normal, fulfilling life free of prescription drugs and bland foods. What name could possibly befit such a beast?
Here is a typical dialogue between myself and the loathsome fiend who has taken up residence in my poor, meek duodenum. Because I was watching So I Married An Axe Murderer when Ulcifer first came on the scene, he has a Scottish accent.
ME: Wow, I haven’t eaten anything but saltines in three days. I need some vegetables. I wonder if I should make some broccoli tonight?
ULCIFER: What, are you new? Yew will eat the bloody saltine and lyke it!
ME: Oooooh, everybody at my table in the sushi place is getting the tastiest spicy tuna rolls and tempura. I bet I could just have one little bitty tuna roll . . .
ULCIFER: Waitress? Yes, we’ll have the wee cup of miso and a wee side of white rice. AND STEP ON IT, YA WEE BITCH!
ME: Mmmmmmm, lots of cookies leftover from today’s meeting. Hmmm, which one do I want: chocolate chip, white chocolate macadamia, ooooooh, the oatmeal looks good too. God, it’s been so long since I had some sugary goodness.
ULCIFER: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! You’re veddy funny. And stewpit! Read mah lips: Neeeeeeoooooo.
ME: Driving past Tacos Por Favor. Sigh. Oh man, I would love one of their breakfast burritos right about now. Mmmmmmmmsanchezburrito.......
ULCIFER: Bitch, are you high? NO FARKING BRECKFUST BURRITEW FOR YOU AGAIN, EVAR! YOU WEE NUMBSKULL OF AN ARTICLE!
ME: (dissolving into defeated tears, popping Nexium like it was candy)
So yes, my dears, that has been my plight. I’m feeling a little better now and hoping to be back to my old sassy self again soon.