Bathroom Floors, I Know You Well

This weekend I did not want to just lie in bed in pain. My brother was visiting and so while I did spend a fair amount of time lounging around I also felt the need to do some things. And that is how I ended up on the floor of the museum bathroom.

I knew better. Not only was there the obvious warning pain that is always there, earlier that day I had had to walk out of church before mass was over. This was only my second time ever leaving mass before the consecration, and the first time resulted in me vomiting in the bushes right outside the church.

So yes, I knew better. But I felt like I was doing a little bit better and mostly I needed to actually do something with my brother.

There was no place intended for sitting in this particular museum, so after having found the restroom (because it is not like I could go more than half an hour away from it) and the fact that it was empty, I went back a few minutes later and just sat on the floor. The pain and nausea did not subside and somewhere along the way I ended up trying to pull myself together enough to clean my vomit out of the sink.

I am, after all, the one who made it through a year and a half of college before realizing that most people who vomit in the sink could have prevented it by just drinking a little less. But I could avoid my experiences just by taking a little pill. So I can’t exactly judge anyone else for being stupid.

Living With Endo , , , ,

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