1am Saturday morning was the beginning of a day long barfing festival. Now, I'm a little out of practice. But 9 times isn't a terrible showing. I mean, if you want me on your barfing team, just give me 3 days to have FiG caught in the spray of another kid's barf at school, then for me to stay home with her while she has a barfing festival of her own, and I'll be good to go.
Fairview Southdale ER was excited to see me on Saturday afternoon. I went in for the wonderful IV of anti-nausea medication that I remember from Thanksgiving 2006. It's good stuff. But when I mentioned that I'd been in the Dominican Republic earlier this month, I didn't take anti-malaria drugs, and I had one bite that could have been a mosquito bite, my doc kicked it into high gear. I saw my gallbladder on ultrasound...it's round. I had my first EKG...apparently I have a mild heart murmur. It's only taken 33 years for someone to hear it. And I had a personal visit from the hospital pathologist. They took cultures and smeared my blood on slides right at my bedside. And though the slides appear negative, by now they are at the U of M to be looked at by yet another pathologist for the "official word." Maybe it was the saline pumping into my veins, but I felt like a celebrity.
A-Mo rocked the house this weekend. FiG has been especially cranky the last few days. He took care of her, the house, and me. I'm very glad he's here. For all of that and more.