oscar

so shortly after i posted my last story, my husband started spewing liquids out of both ends. (violently.) while this was going on, i was feeding the kids, getting them ready for bed...and listening to what sounded like something from the exorcist going on in the bathroom. he was being really loud and obnoxious about it, to the point where i went up there and said..."i know you don't feel well, but you need to calm the hell down. you are scaring ella." he proceeded to vomit again, even louder. i felt bad for him, but there was really nothing i could do to help him. i had a similar bug last week, and ella had it as well...you just have to let it run it's course. so i put the kids down for bed, poured myself a glass of wine and sat down on the couch. during this time, he was still serenading me with explosions from the upstairs bathroom. (gross.) he also kept coming downstairs and laying on the couch, asking me to look up remedies on the internet, telling me he was cold, moaning, shaking...being a total man about the whole thing. (men.)

as i looked over my laptop at him on the opposite couch, i thought about mentioning something about the fact that i fired both of our kids out of my lady parts...amongst other sicknesses i've had and just dealt with, but i didn't want to push my luck. he started breathing really labored and was being HIGHLY dramatic, telling me his hands were going numb and stuff. he was in the fetal position. it got to a point where i didn't know if he was just being dramatic, or if he actually was having organ failure. he coulda won an academy award for his performance. i put down my wine glass and started to get a little scared. i mean, what if he was actually dying...and i am laughing (hysterically) on the inside about it. i was texting one of my (funny) friends and she asked me if he had a bowl of e. coli for dinner? (i laughed.) finally, he stood up and said..."CALL 911." (holy shit and shinola.) "are you serious?" he moaned, "i never felt like this in my liiiiiiifffeeee....something is wronnngggg." (oh my god.) so i called a friend, she came over to sit with the kids and i took him to the ER. (praise jesus for friends like this.)

it was about 10pm and we rolled up to the hospital. the waiting room was packed with weird people. i also love that the nurses in the ER don't deal with any bullshit. (they can't i guess.) they were asking warren questions and he was all whiny and moany with them, but they weren't buying it. he cried to the one (large) nurse, "i can't feel my haaaaands." she just said, "yeah, okay." and kept going about her business. (this made me want to bust out laughing, but i didn't.) they asked him, on a scale of 1 to 10...how bad was his pain? now for me...a 1 would be stepping on a lego in the middle of the night while walking into ella's room in the dark. a 10 would be equivalent to a kevin ware broken bone basketball injury. however, without missing a beat...butch moaned, "A TENNNNN. IT'S A TEN!!!" (yeah right.) two kids, outta my vagina...and it wasn't even a 10. (knock it off.) i sat quietly, biting my lip.

when they got us back into another room, butch then unleashed a whole puke bag full of his insides in front of two nurses, a doctor...and a room full of people. (people were staring, and i bet they thought he was drunk...he had that look about him.) again, he was overly dramatic about it and was making crazy noises. i was just sitting there staring at him and at everyone staring at me. the one (young, pretty) nurse looked at me...and i rolled my eyes. she bit her lip and tried not to lose it. she then said, "puking is the worst." i agreed. puking is the worst, but there is no need for the added shenanigans. then she hooked him up to an IV to give him fluids and something for the nausea. they wheeled him back to another room with a bed and hooked him up to monitors. i was no longer worried at this point, because no one else seemed worried. he kept asking me to do shit for him...and i was trying really hard to be supportive. he asked him to cover him up with blankets. (i did.) he asked me to fix the pillow behind his head. (i did.) he asked me to...tie his shoe. (MOTHER OF GOD.) i did.

at the end of all this a few hours later, he started to feel better...the vomiting stopped and they established that this was just a GI bug that has been going around. also, that he was dehydrated due to several nights of boozin' with my brother. it was 12:15am that we walked out of there. there were even more weird people in the waiting room when we left. no worries, though, we fit right in...it was at this point i realized that his (pajama) pants were inside out and his pockets were flapping in the breeze. (awesome.) i was half asleep and as we made our way back to our house...he said, "oh no. OH NO!" i said, "oh my god, what NOW!?" he yelped, "it's gonna come out!!!" he was clenching his ass. (jesus h. christ.) i said, "butch, if you shit your pants in this car, i will never be able to look at you with a straight face again. please do not shit your own pants. right now. in this car." he laughed...and thank god did not poop in his pajama pants. after we got home, our kids didn't sleep well either, so i didn't really sleep at all last night. (zombie mode today.) so much for april being germ free...day 1, a trip to the ER. we are off to a stellar start. on a positive note, he has informed me that he has lost 6 pounds. now we will both look amazing on the red carpet next year at the oscars....when he wins the academy award for best actor.