The Lost Week of Patient Zero

LAST TIME IN THE UNDESIRABLE ELEMENT:

Well, any stories regarding my first day of classes will have to wait until Wednesday. Instead of teaching, my morning was filled with the joy of food poisoning... I have no idea what caused it. My initial thought was that it had to be my Carvel's ice cream, since that was the last thing that I had last night... I can't rule out the Sheetz Shmuffin... I think I narrowed it down to some bad swiss cheese.

AND NOW THE EXCITING CONCLUSION:

Turns out I was all wrong. My vomiting and diarrhea were the result of gastroenteritis, a horrible, vile, and evil virus that I feel was spawned by the germs of Satan himself. As I said before, I only believe in deities when I think they're out to get me. This past week qualifies.

The use of the word "enter" in the word "gastroenteritis" must be some sort of medical joke, because anything that entered my body was quickly given the heave-ho by my colon. The vomiting stopped after Sunday night, but the diarrhea continued ALL WEEK LONG!! That's five full days of not being able to take a solid and substantial dump. Do you have any idea what that does to a person's disposition?

On Monday evening, the brunt of the disease (i.e. the vomiting) went away, and I felt a lot better. Tuesday passed without incident, but then on Tuesday night, my bowels decided to have their own little quinceanera kegger. Still, by Wednesday morning I thought I could get through teaching my two classes. After all, my students usually make me nauseous anyway. I made my way to the new English building, and when I got there, a friend of mine informed me that I looked like the walking dead. After 30 minutes, I felt like it too. My stomach was doing backflips. My skin was all clammy. My head hurt. And of course, the disgusting diarrhea was still there.

Virgil took me to the doctor. Anyone who reads her blog knows that she'd be a good one to have on your team when dealing with the hospital bureaucracy. The Student Health Center is located in some old building's sub-basement next to the Bat-cave. When I was listing my symptoms to the receptionist, I sounded a lot like the Pepto Bismol commercial. You know, "Nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, diarrhea... YAY PEPTO BISMOL!" They send me to the waiting room for an hour and a half to wait for the next available doctor. I was looking around the room, and I didn't see anyone there that was sicker than me. I found that unfair, but then thought that if they got my disease, I'd sleep a bit better at night. On the plus side, I got to catch up on all the latest celebrity gossip on TV, and then I got to make catty comments during All My Children. Even when sick, I amuse myself.

I was eventually allowed to see the doctor. While listing my symptoms, I began to feel like an idiot. After all, it wasn't like I was bleeding from every pore or something. Then she says, "Go get on the table over there... oh by the way, do you still have your appendix?" I maintain a good outward composure, but inside I'm going, "You won't be taking my goddamn organs!! You work in the WVU medical clinic!!" The thought, of course, didn't make sense. Impromptu surgeries are rare (or so I hear), and the doctor was quite nice. It was apparently a standard question, and she informed me that I had gastroenteritis (a stomach virus) and gave me two pamphlets on how to treat it. Virgil wondered how much money had been spent on making these pamphlets.

I didn't make it to my own class that night either. Wednesday and Thursday were spent in my recliner, my bed, and my toilet. By Thursday night, I felt good enough to go to my second class, but then my stomach felt the need to gurgle and expel loud gases all night long. That was fun. Finally, on Friday I felt like my old self again and taught my classes.

During that week, I pretty much lived on toast, soup, and Pop Tarts. My mom (Hi Mom!!) informed me that I was being an idiot for not buying Ginger Ale ("Why do you think I gave it to you when you were sick?") and for thinking that I had food poisoning. Apparently, getting food poisoning from ice cream and cheese is extremely rare. You get it when food has been prepared in unsanitary conditions, and the culprit is usually something like ground meat (hamburger and such). Of course, if you were stupid enough to take food safety advice from a blog, then you deserve to die anyway.

I managed to trace my illness back to my brother. I must have picked it up shortly before returning to Morgantown. It's apparently been making its rounds around Kittanning. On Thursday night, I found out that I managed to pass it on to someone in Morgantown already. If this disease starts spreading through Morgantown like... well... a disease, then you won't have to look much farther than me to figure out who patient zero was.

On the plus side, I've lost ten pounds in the last week. Most of that's water weight and will likely return, but it's nice when a Satanic virus leaves a parting gift.

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Gastroenteritis: Dashing blog readers hopes of a cool new post with nothing more than an account of JP's disgusting diarrhea.