The Porcelain Bus
I have not slept since Monday night. During this time, however, I have learned the very interesting fact that birth control pills really do work! Unfortunately, for me they work by causing intense headaches, vomiting and insomnia, negating every sexual thought and impulse instead of, you know, doing that whole hormonal thing. Not that we were using them for their pregnancy prevention properties, but still it's nice to know they're effective if we ever don't want to have kids.
Night one, Tuesday, I took the pill, a little yellow one called Necon, with
Through deep breathing, moaning and tossing enough to keep J. awake with me for the duration, I managed to avoid the actual vomiting. By noon, I was enfeebled but no longer nauseated, and proceeded to eat half a loaf of Trader Joe's whole wheat poppyseed bread, lightly toasted.
Night two, Wednesday, I valiantly tried again, this time swaddling the little yellow disc of evil in my first bite of bland pasta. I ate the whole plate, good girl that I am, and by the time we were ready for bed, I predicted, quite blithely, that I would sleep just fine, sweet dreams and see you in the morning, love. Yessiree, I was confident. So when I noticed the first niggling traces of nausea, I tried to tell myself that all was well and it was just in my head. And I drifted off.
For about ten minutes. Because, at 1:12 this morning, someone took a rod of aching pain and stabbed it into my forehead, just above the right eye. And, simultaneously, filled my stomach with burning, churning bile.
Again, I tried not to chuck. When I've been nauseated in the past, I've always made a concerted effort to get it out as quickly as possible, even occasionally hyperventilating over the toilet bowl as a means of hastening the inevitable. But those were the days when nausea was the result of a few too many greyhounds or kamikaze shots, a mild poison that really belonged in the toilet instead of in me. However, as the whole purpose of taking these pills is, I'm guessing, negated if they are thrown up half-digested, I concentrated my very best efforts on keeping it in.
All to no avail, naturally. No, I was a late-boarding passenger on the Porcelain Bus, a penitent at the proverbial White Altar. A puker-up-of-the-pill.
I am feeling marginally better now, twelve hours later, with the other half of the poppyseed bread lodged quite comfortably in my gullet and a can of diet ginger ale by my side. Dr. Meow was out of the office all day today but finally got back to me half an hour ago. After informing me in a very serious tone of voice that I had experienced a "very rare" (?) reaction, he phoned in a lower-dose prescription, which J. has just gone to the pharmacy to pick up.
I'm very much hoping that there will be no bus trip for me tonight, and that tomorrow I can ingest foodstuffs outside of the grain family. But if I have to take the ride again, at least I have my wonderful J. to annoy in those long, dark, nauseated hours.