I've come to the conclusion that there are varying degrees of nausea. There's the nausea you get after seeing something really gross and you don't want to eat anything for at least two hours after you've seen it. There's the nausea you get when you know something bad is about to happen (like finding out your boyfriend has been cheating on you). There's the nausea you get after riding a roller coaster (for some). There's even the nausea pregnant women get, usually in their first trimester, due to the massive storm of hormones raging in their bodies. I've never had the pleasure of experiencing this last nausea.
Some nausea are relevant to bad feelings, bad food, or sights so hideous that your stomach churns. Some people get all that nausea rolled into one...usually the direct result of a full night of drinking green beer.
Then, there is good old fashioned nausea. The warning you get when everything you have eaten that day is going to be revisited, because there is something in your stomach that your body refuses to pass on. The sphincter muscle in the bottom of your stomach recognizes there is a traitor in the midst, and locks down for the remainder of the day, until the offending party leaves from the front door. The great bowel protector!
That, my friends, is the nausea I experienced last night. I hate to blame the sushi, because I LOVE sushi, especially the Vegas roll, but I am afraid the sushi was the culprit because I was belching up fish for the rest of the afternoon. Had a chicken pot pie for dinner and things were okay...until I got ready to go to bed. That's when the first wave of nausea hit. More than a stomach pang, it was was a clear signal from my stomach to my brain that there was going to be action before the night was done.
Then, the second wave it. Nausea so strong that my body shuddered. I hate that feeling. That's when I know that I will be praying to the porcelain Goddess. Fortunately, I had recently cleaned the toilets.
In my pajamas, I made a beeline for the master bath and let fly. Okay, so I am not the greatest aim. I ended up barfing on my feet, the little toilet rug, and all over my shirt. (Let me be the first to say that it was probably the most colorful vomit I have yet to see both on and off the clock.) Retching, retching, retching until I was certain with the next heave, my toes would pop out of my mouth.
I put all the affected items in the washer, took a shower, brushed my teeth, and climbed into bed. Oddly enough, I felt TONS better.
I feel better today. I had to run to the bank this morning, stopping by the store to pick up some cabbage for the corned beef that is cooking in the crock pot. Now, I am going to go to bed and rest up for work. I hope this brief illness was a passing thing. I would hate to projectile onto my orientee.