Last night I woke up at 2am with crippling stomach cramps and proceeded to spend the following two and a half hours ensconced in the en-suite bathroom, grateful for the small mercy that my other half was sleeping elsewhere (when he goes out knowing he will be drinking and coming in after I’ll have fallen asleep, he very compliantly settles for alternative sleeping quarters). After collapsing back in bed about 4am, covered in sweat but freezing cold and toying with the idea that I must have picked up malaria somehow, I drifted into unconsciousness for an hour before being woken by the baby at 5am.
Other Half very kindly took over baby duties which enabled me to stagger back to the boudoir, groaning quietly and clutching my stomach. I haven’t been able to go back to sleep, hence my writing this now, but I have been lying in bed for a while contemplating the sad truth that I used to make myself feel this way wittingly each and every weekend, and quite often mid-week too.
Whilst a bug of this nature is never pleasant, I am at least comforted by the knowledge that my sickness is purely a horrible piece of bad luck, rather than a dire physical state that I have inflicted on myself in exchange for a few hours of drinking, subsequently acting like an idiot and waking up only to remember the odd flash of the evening’s events anyway, thus rendering the by-product of being hungover as a total waste of my life.
Yes I look horrific, yes I feel as though I have been hit by a combine harvester, and yes I am suffering from a modicum of self-pity, but at least all I have to contend with today is the illness – the old associated guilt, shame and battering of my self-esteem are, happily, nowhere to be seen.
I have so much to do today and as any parent knows all too well, you simply don’t get to be poorly when there’s a baby to be cared for! So I’ll be kind to myself, nibble on a bit of dry toast (is that an old wives’ tale or does it work?) and try and keep a little water down, and then I’ll get on with my life, albeit in something of a restricted manner.
Once again I am reminded of why life is best embraced minus a drip-feed of alcohol.