I have a love / hate relationship with nausea & vomitting.
When undergoing chemotherapy 4 years ago - wow has it been that long since diagnose? - for the hodgkin’s disease, for the 6month duration, I puked more than 500 times. The math goes something like this: sick (read: bedridden) for 5-7 days every 14 days, and vomit an average of 5-8 times per day. It is true that nausea meds are much better now than say, 10 years ago, but it did diddly squat to prevent me from puking my guts out. I was so weak on some days (who am I kidding - on most days) that I didn’t even want to get out of bed, take a shower or get dressed. I hid from pretty much everyone and refused to listen to yet another “be positive” pep talk, or anyone who wanted to share their cousin’s boyfriend’s grandfather’s cancer story with me. I had just fuckin’ turned 24 years old - who gets cancer at 24 - especially when you’ve been healthy all your life! I dreaded drinking any liquid (which was very bad of me) because that meant I would have to drag my ass to the bathroom to pee, and any movements I made brough havoc in my belly causing me to puke. Most days I just lay there, sleep when I can manage to fall asleep, or play dead. It was easiest and least painful. I wished I was dead - excuse me while I wipe the tears welling up in my eyes. I dreaded the vomit bucket, the toilet, the shower, the sink, anything that were used to hold the projetiles from my mouth at the most unexpected moments. I remember I needed to puke while hubby was driving me home after yet another chemo session. We stopped by the roadside while I opened the car door to let in this freezing cold air and splatter the highway shoulder with artsy puke. After that, I stocked bags in the car.
When I got pregnant with our son couple of years later, I started having nausea shortly after my period was late. It continued for another 3.5 months. It was not easy to be sure. But it was such a different type of vomit, literally and physically, that it was much easier to bear. At least I didn’t throw up 8 times a day for an entire week. And it isn’t the type where it drained everything out of me, where it would leave me weak and tired and ill and dread the next regurgitation of lunch. At least I got a baby out of it at the end.
Pregnancy #2, no vomit at all. No nausea at all. Except once, while I was thrown about in the wave of the sea during a snorkeling outting. Just that once. I think I was just seasick and it was not caused by actual morning sickness. Then I lost the baby.
Pregnancy #3. No vomit so far. Until last night. I wished for many weeks that I would have some symptom, anysymptom, as if that is indicative that something is going right with this pregnancy. It remains to be seen whether it was morning sickness, or a case of minor food poisoning, as I didn’t have any nausea accompied with it. It was just plain puking. I hope it’s the former, and that it is an indication that things are going in the right direction.
Who would have ever thought that I would welcome vomit like it’s my long lost friend. But at this point, bring it on man.