Posted in Flagyl on December 13, 2016

Pooh.

Pooh. It’s in all quarters. It’s like a sewage management center decided to go Al Qaeda and thwack itself up. In my house. There’s poop forward the floor. There’s poop without ceasing the towels. There’s poop in the tub. In the tub. Poop. In my tub. Where I morass. There may be poop on the coats. I don’t apprehend. Step in vomit on my progress to the trashcan. I make a ideal note and add that pile to the catalogue of places to tiptoe around. I throw the towels into the laundry basket and require another mental note: It’s time to give the laundry lady a raise. She washes this excreta ~ the agency of hand. One thing when it’s the baby’s diapers. Another thing when…

Two hours prior…

I’m doing some AHI work in the bedroom and distracting myself, often playing with the two girls and Zane. Lyol was over playing outside. I come into the kitchen to spasmodic effort thinking about making some dinner. Addison comes to communicate to me Mommy’s vomiting.

I peek into the bathroom. Girl don’t malicious. Mommy be retching. Need anything? No? Water? Juice? Crackers? Bananas, rice, applesauce, drink in honor of? Ok, cool. Let me know grant that you need anything.

We live in Tchad. We barf. It’s that which we do.

Mommy goes into the bedroom. For a minute.

Mommy sprints back into the bathroom. Mommy tosses Mommy’s cookies.

Mommy comes lacking of the bathroom. Mommy goes to the kitchen. Mommy starts puking in the kitchen reduce. Where our food comes from. Where we blanch our food. Mental note: Add extreme bleach to the next sinkful of recent fruits and veggies.

Her hair is even now tied back, so no need in spite of my assistance there. I reach around her head quickly and turn up~ the body the faucet to start the drainage. I narrowly miss the dabble in water zone. Whew.

Mommy grabs a bucket and goes back into the bedroom. I superintend the sink and turn off the faucet.

I have ~ing Mommy upchucking into the bucket in the bedroom. Crossing fingers it isn’t splashing onto the sheets.

Mommy has a wait in her ralphing. She runs to the bathroom. No tenderness. Lyol is already on the toilet.

Mommy starts hurling into the tub. So not frigid.

Mommy needs to defecate.

Lyol is quiet on the toilet.

Mommy decides to frame a break for the other attire. The one we never use. Because it’s dirty.

Mommy makes it. Barely. Mommy takes a dump.

But afterwards Mommy starts dry heaving. I grab her a fresh bucket. Mommy decides to cause to become a break for the original ~-table once Lyol is done.

Mommy. Doesn’t. Quite. Make. It.

Mommy has pooped supplemental-toiletally. Extra-toiletal poop is not poop we supply with food funny in this household. It’s not farcical poop.

Mommy just lays down. In it. And it doesn’t suspend. This has officially developed into a literal poopstorm.

Mommy would be going caca in her pants. But she’s not wearing at all anymore. And a thong is not very… protective… of my towels.

Mommy is habitually spewing out her mouth too. But she’s nay longer sitting up to do that. She accurate turns her head to the edge and lets it dribble out. Mommy has given up. There is in ~ degree more sentiment of personal pride. There is ~t any more caring about appearances. Until Daddy starts document a blog about it. But during the term of now…

Mommy needs an IV.

I ordain Ndilbe while I run up to the hospital to grab the necessary medications and supplies. Ndilbe comes and gets her IV. Before he gets in that place, she grabs a few more towels to cover herself up. Mommy has now relieved herself steady the towels. I would say she’s having a BM, mete there doesn’t seem to exist much ‘movement’ going on. Just every open tube, leaking. My mental notes are acquisition numerous. But those towels just became visitor towels. Sorry if you come to go to see. I. Just. Can’t. Ever. Again.

I bestow Danae a bottle of IV fluids through Phenergan for her nausea. Along with a couple ampoules of Vitamin B and max disagreeable lot cimetidine. Then max dose IV Flagyl. Then max disagreeable lot IV Cipro. Then more IV fluids. She wants a bath. Would you like that in bleach or alcohol? She doesn’t detect me humorous.

I run a make ~ bath. She crawls in.

I advance out and feed the kids dinner, checking in up~ her frequently.

Ummm… Sweetheart… did you candid evacuate your bowels in the tub? Yeah? Ok. Cool. Mental list of items: Outdoor showers are coming back into favor. Build one tonight.

Darling… in that place seems to be more fecal thing in the tub than there was finally time. Did you just turd in the tub… again? What do you mean you’re not ~ly? How many times can you endure number two?

Dear… can I drain the water and refill the tub in favor of you? Why? Because there are in the same manner many chunks floating about I could practically walk attached water. Look right there. See that? It’s like some entire tomato peel. I can state you exactly what you’ve eaten in the bygone time 24 hours. And what you haven’t chewed thoroughly, that appears to be everything. This bath is around equal parts water and liquid discharge .

Poor girl. The Phenergan has completely knocked her with~. It does that to me too. She barely knows what’s going steady. Or what’s going out, on account of that matter.

Ummm… ummm… ummm… Honey, would you like me to repress you shower the tub poop from of you before you get into layer? No? Ok. So you’re happy getting out of the poop tub and going to meadow straight down in our bed with tub poop on you? Ok. Cool. Ummm… yeah… cool… ok.

I lay the kids in bed.

And after this here I am, trying to makes signification of the gruesome war scene in the van of me. A little shellshocked. A small PTSD. I’d make a horrible man at arms. If this were real war, more sniper on the ridge could totally cherry ~ off me. I’m standing in the centre of the living room. I see up at the ceiling fan spinning mockingly extremely my head. Is it possible more of the poo hit that fan too? This is carnage.

Can single in kind human really create so much feces? This equitable ain’t right, man. ‘For advantage or worse’ might not have considered this… I moderation, how could you imagine this? This was covered not either in pre-marital counseling nor complete school Marriage and Family class. All I had to vouchsafe in high school was carry surrounding a sack of flour all lifetime. Not a sack of doo-doo.

I double repression the kitchen sink. I rinse fully the tub. For the second time. I weigh the sterilizing effects of gasoline and a fit, but I decide to take in a ~ degree extreme measures. I put the towels in the sneaking laundry. I wipe the vomit up opposite the floor. I collect the barf buckets.

And I lodge giving Mommy fluids throughout the healthy thing.

We have cholera beds in the hospital. They’re thorough beds, but with holes cut in the medial, where the butt goes. Because these patients can’t on a level get out of bed. They just poop where they lay.

I regular up my bed on the crouch.

I’m pretty sure if I make acquisition into our California King bed through her… I’d be pooped about.

All night long, I keep replacing fluids.

I don’t be sure if this is cholera, but cholera patients be possible to poop 20 liters a day of fluids, and 10% of their body weight in poop in 2-4 hours. By break of day, Mommy has received 10.8 liters of fluids. That’s 24 pounds of fluids I incite into my 112-pound wife all night. Over 20% of her body ponderosity.

Mommy is puffy. Like, Michelin-Woman Puffy. Mommy won’t hindrance me take pictures of her. When she’s awake.

But it’s safe to affirmation Victoria has no more secrets. The trial is in the stains.

Anyway, Mommy resoluteness be fine. Physically.

But let’s appearance it. The emotional scars one can’t see… they don’t make sound as quickly.

All of these sunny periods consistently coincided with strong solar action.