I have been ill for the past couple of days. I am still a bit poorly today, but at least now I have a greater functionality. In the past few days I have felt a distance from my depressive tendencies, although not always from my anxiety. I started thursday morning having slept for maybe some 90 minutes. I left a Michael Shermer audiobook on, I then felt the need to go to the toilet, as one does; as well as a slight stuffiness in my lungs.
I had quite a long poo, and as I sat in the toilet for longer, I felt more and more ill. I then stood up to wipe myself, and then it happened: I suddenly felt the need to vomit. About 4 hours previous to the vomiting I ate burnt toast. It was entirely burnt and consisted mostly of black carbon. I vomited it out, but I had also been dehydrated. Dried burnt toast without much 'liquid' sustinance made vomiting difficult. I vomited a few more times after that. I woke up my parents. The pain was too intense not to make a noise as I was vomiting involuntarily. Because of the dehydration and the struggle, I suffocated a bit while trying to vomit. I managed a slightly horrid looking membrane mixed with brown powder and sesame seed.
I also went to the toilet a lot more, while vomiting. One time during this morning i had sat on the toilet bowl and needed to vomit at the same time, so I puked in the bathtub right next to me. Luckily the consistency was thin so I could use the shower hose to rinse it out without any suspicion. I had been drained of fluids that morning and I could barely drink anything out of extreme pain. The rest of the day I spent bedridden with the hourly need to get rid of anal fluids. My parents were good enough to get me lucozade, and not complain about my personal hygiene or unkempt room.
The day after (friday), I had more mobility, but I still was quite ill. My temperature had gone but I did still have some signs of diahorrea. I did get a little bit better eventually; to the point of eating, and drinking lots of lucozade. I had a slight problem of being a bit gassy. I couldn't tell if I needed to fart or have a shit; at times it was both. I changed my underpants about 3 times on thursday due to 'accidents'. My parents brought home takeaway, which I was barely able to eat.
Today I have been a fair bit better. I felt that this morning I would be able to go out tonight with a friend. At present I feel that I may not be as sure as I was earlier. My tummy is still hurting a bit and I had a mild headache. I still seem to have intestinal problems as well as a sense of fatigue.
With the exception of a bit of today and yesterday, I have not felt aas depressed during my physical illness. It is as if my head was dealing with the physical pain more than all the things going on in my life, and I allowed myself a 'break' from things and that I would allow myself to reschedule things and nothing right now was terribly urgent. The world would still turn on its axis despite my illness and life will go on. What is two days in the grand scheme of things?
Today, however, now that my functionality is a lot better. I have decided to make a start on things, what I have actually done is minimal but I have been fairly active today compared to previous days. I have had my first solid shit in about 3 days. I also think that my insomnia has been slightly countenanced by this period of illness. I ought to have a shower at some point and mark all the things that are worth noting in my schedule.
I felt that noting down my illness and absence (even if it was a couple of days) is notable. I like noting things in terms of stages, and all the little changes I undergo. My weight has gone down a lot (from diahorrea), but I have regained about half of it again.
I am not sure when I can start jogging again. I am suppsoed to be jogging tomorrow but given the events of thursday I am allowed to be lenient. I also went 10.8k this week, so I dont have too much to prove. I'm not in physical shape to push myself anyway.
I know that no one may actually be reading this, but I feel that writing to you helps in little ways. You (the blog) are like a friend, and I can tell you the events of my life in an honest way. I can also be selective in order to affirm certain parts of my life story. That isn't to say that I am 'lying'. Although the narrator (me) cannot always be honest.
I had quite a long poo, and as I sat in the toilet for longer, I felt more and more ill. I then stood up to wipe myself, and then it happened: I suddenly felt the need to vomit. About 4 hours previous to the vomiting I ate burnt toast. It was entirely burnt and consisted mostly of black carbon. I vomited it out, but I had also been dehydrated. Dried burnt toast without much 'liquid' sustinance made vomiting difficult. I vomited a few more times after that. I woke up my parents. The pain was too intense not to make a noise as I was vomiting involuntarily. Because of the dehydration and the struggle, I suffocated a bit while trying to vomit. I managed a slightly horrid looking membrane mixed with brown powder and sesame seed.
I also went to the toilet a lot more, while vomiting. One time during this morning i had sat on the toilet bowl and needed to vomit at the same time, so I puked in the bathtub right next to me. Luckily the consistency was thin so I could use the shower hose to rinse it out without any suspicion. I had been drained of fluids that morning and I could barely drink anything out of extreme pain. The rest of the day I spent bedridden with the hourly need to get rid of anal fluids. My parents were good enough to get me lucozade, and not complain about my personal hygiene or unkempt room.
The day after (friday), I had more mobility, but I still was quite ill. My temperature had gone but I did still have some signs of diahorrea. I did get a little bit better eventually; to the point of eating, and drinking lots of lucozade. I had a slight problem of being a bit gassy. I couldn't tell if I needed to fart or have a shit; at times it was both. I changed my underpants about 3 times on thursday due to 'accidents'. My parents brought home takeaway, which I was barely able to eat.
Today I have been a fair bit better. I felt that this morning I would be able to go out tonight with a friend. At present I feel that I may not be as sure as I was earlier. My tummy is still hurting a bit and I had a mild headache. I still seem to have intestinal problems as well as a sense of fatigue.
With the exception of a bit of today and yesterday, I have not felt aas depressed during my physical illness. It is as if my head was dealing with the physical pain more than all the things going on in my life, and I allowed myself a 'break' from things and that I would allow myself to reschedule things and nothing right now was terribly urgent. The world would still turn on its axis despite my illness and life will go on. What is two days in the grand scheme of things?
Today, however, now that my functionality is a lot better. I have decided to make a start on things, what I have actually done is minimal but I have been fairly active today compared to previous days. I have had my first solid shit in about 3 days. I also think that my insomnia has been slightly countenanced by this period of illness. I ought to have a shower at some point and mark all the things that are worth noting in my schedule.
I felt that noting down my illness and absence (even if it was a couple of days) is notable. I like noting things in terms of stages, and all the little changes I undergo. My weight has gone down a lot (from diahorrea), but I have regained about half of it again.
I am not sure when I can start jogging again. I am suppsoed to be jogging tomorrow but given the events of thursday I am allowed to be lenient. I also went 10.8k this week, so I dont have too much to prove. I'm not in physical shape to push myself anyway.
I know that no one may actually be reading this, but I feel that writing to you helps in little ways. You (the blog) are like a friend, and I can tell you the events of my life in an honest way. I can also be selective in order to affirm certain parts of my life story. That isn't to say that I am 'lying'. Although the narrator (me) cannot always be honest.
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