On the Monday, my body started to react to the antibiotics. Nausea arrived – but, as I hadn’t eaten anything much for days, it was more hobby vomiting.
It was irritating, as I had been feeling much better – I was even able to read, watch TV, or look at daylight without screaming.
But, instead, I spent a good hour retching nothing into a plastic bag.
Eventually, my stomach found some rather nice fruit juice, and helpfully brought that up. Once I started, I couldn’t stop.
The hospital cleaner came in, to find me vomiting into my little bag. We both waved and nodded. She pushed a button, and my bed, me, my plastic bag and my stomach contents all rose neatly to the ceiling. Then she swept under the bed, pushed another button, and left the room as we all gracefully descended back to the floor.
Eventually, they gave me a pill to stop the vomiting. I threw it up. They gave me an injection, and I suddenly fell asleep.
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