15 July 2010

a shade of pain

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No woman of half-measures, this one. I dove immediately into the vast ocean of health as soon as I could move again after poisoning myself so nearly to death.

Well, now I'm almost dead of the cure. I knew I was going to be killing off and flushing out all kinds of bad stuff. I knew the Herksheimer gig wasn't going to be pleasant. Still I might've missed the worst of it if the power didn't go down in the middle of the night and set off a thousand loudly beeping back-up power units all over the house. It woke me up rudely. And then I realized my stomach hurt nearly as badly as it did the other night and I was a sick puppy again. Tough shit. Gotta get up and grope around in the dark for cords and buttons and bring the plastic barf pitcher with me just in case.

At least ten trips to the toilet after all that I finally managed to make it back to bed and stay there, clutching my barf pitcher to my clammy breast... and my mantra was something about how dying would be just fine, but if I didn't die I'd end up a paragon of toxin-free flesh.


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