Let me start off by saying that this particular blog entry is a bit graphic and may be offensive or gross to some you. That being said, you have been warned...now let me tell you about the last 48 hours of my life.
I woke up on Saturday morning feeling pretty good. I had gone out Friday night with my buddies Scott and Kupe, had a few (7, but who's counting) Capt. & Cokes and closed out the night with an empanada before jumping on the metro and running through the monsoon type rains to get home.
Amy had already left for work, so I had the place to myself. I headed downstairs and made myself some breakfast/lunch (it was about 11:30 when I got up) of soup and goldfish crackers. This was actually a tougher process than usual because I could barely move my arms. You see, as mentioned in a previous post, I joined the gym this week and started lifting weights, something I haven't done since my senior year in college. My chest and triceps were hurting the most and it was difficult to lift my arm up and even harder to pull my hand towards my face to put a spoonful of soup in my mouth. Probably shouldn't have tried to keep up with my brother, who has been lifting for over 5 years, but I'm too competitive to not at least try to do all the same exercises as him.
After I finish my soup, I begin to feel worse, now my shoulders (which I worked on Friday) and my abs are starting to ache, and overall I'm not feeling that well. Actually, before I started this lifting program, I told my brother that every time I try to start lifting, I get sick. The last time I got so sick, I was in bed for a week and missed my fraternity's beach party and the Super Bowl. Oh boy, here we go again.
I went onto webmd.com and checked into over-exercise and it mentioned that you can get sicker if you are already under the weather and stress your body with exercise, and it said it was normal to be sore 24-72 hours after first starting to work out, so maybe I just need some rest.
I turned on a hot bath (yeah, I took a bath, got a problem with a man taking a bath? And yes, there were bubbles in this bath, scented like oranges) in hopes that it would sooth my aching muscles and maybe give me some relief. I had a busy day planned, with the Redskins game and my buddy Greg's housewarming party. Unfortunately, things took a turn for the worst...and this is were things start to go downhill quickly.
I am freezing and shivering as I get out of the bath and now I can barely stand. Something is definitely wrong and I'm worried that maybe I have some unknown diabetic condition (my dad is diabetic) and all the working out and drinking has done something to my blood. I quickly get dressed, grab an Aleve, a Megaman vitamin, and the thermometer and head to grab some lemonade and an apple. Maybe I need sugar?
The thermometer beeps while I'm cutting my apple (which was very difficult and somewhat dangerous given how my muscles were acting) and I've got a temperature of 100.7. Fuck! I still have no idea what is going on so it's back to webmd to check on blood sugar and symptoms of high or low blood sugar. Did you realize that muscle pain and fever are the symptoms of pretty much every single ailment? How the hell is this supposed to help me fix my problem if I could technically have every problem out there? Stupid computer doctor. At this point, I have nothing else I can do but go back to bed and hope that the Aleve fixes the problem. I call Amy and ask her to pick up some flex-all and orange juice on the way home (OJ fixes everything) and I try to rest. By this point, the Redskins are on and looking pathetic on offense as usual. At least, Shaun Alexander is out...we have a chance.
Amy gets home to find my pathetic ass laid up in bed. She gets me some orange juice and here's where things start to get REAL bad. After I finish my second glass, my stomach starts to rumble. I know where this is heading and it's off to the bathroom. Dumb and Dumber style explosions are coming out of my ass (told you I would be graphic, just wait...it gets worse) and it's sapping the remaining bit of energy out of my body. When I'm done, I try to stand up, but I double over in stomach pain and collapse to the ground. It's a matter of minutes before I am now adding puke to the toilet (I've flushed already, that would be too gross). After emptying my stomach and then a few more dry heaves for shits and giggles, I am a sweaty, exhausted mess. WHAT THE FUCK!!!
Amy helps me back to bed and now I want just water, and lots of it, because I'm sure I'm really dehydrated at this point. The next 17 hours (no, I'm not kidding) have me curled up in bed shivering from fever, which topped off at 102.7, drinking as much water as possible, and visiting the bathroom to shit every forty or so minutes (again, I'm not kidding).
So, you're probably asking yourself, how can you shit every forty minutes when all you're doing is drinking water? Well, you see, after about 3 hours worth of shitting, the idea of solid shit has long left your thoughts. When you get up to about 8 hours, you start to wonder (it could be the fever or drugs doing the wondering) why your ass needs to be involved at all...you could piss this out just as easily. By hour number 15, you are now starting to dislodge food that has been trapped in your intestines since you were 5 years old. The smells associated with this type of shitting are inexplicable, and would be grounds for vomiting, if I had anything left in my body to throw up. They even put my dog's farts to shame.
Thankfully, around 1 PM on Sunday, my fever broke and the shitting went to a once every hour and a half cycle. I was actually able to get some sleep last night, as it diminished even further to once every three hours, which is about where I am right now.
On a positive note, I am now five pounds lighter and got the benefit of a colon cleansing without the awkward doctor visit and related bills...and you all got the benefit of reading about me taking a whole lot of craps. You're welcome.