I’m In Love…With Porcelain John (It’s a Love-Hate Relationship)

Isn’t it called Murphy’s Law when you hurt yourself then, for the rest of the day, you’ll end up hurting that same spot over and over again? Like, if you bite your cheek in the morning, you’re guaranteed to bite that SAME EXACT spot for the rest of the day, if not week? I think that my current Murphy’s Law is: if I eat or drink something of ANY nutritional value, it is guaranteed to make a re-appearance. It just seems like any time I put some food in my pie-hole, it comes right back out.

Every day and/or evening for the last week Porcelain John and I have had long chats. I do most of the talking and he, like a real man, takes in the information (in this case, my food) and out (or down, actually) his “ear” it goes. He doesn’t seem to be the least bit worried about how I’m feeling, he just pushes (rather, flushes) away what it is I have to say with no concern about how I’m feeling. Occasionally he talks back (FYI: don’t bend over TOO far when you’re talking with Porcelain John, he’s like a llama, he spits), which I totally do not appreciate.

We have yet to figure out why my visits with Porcelain John have increased over the last week. The doctor(s) have given me two different nausea/vomiting medications (Zofran and Phenergan), which, to my understanding, are pretty powerful drugs to combat nausea and vomiting (often used for cancer patients, I THINK), but they don’t always seem to work. I do what I can to take things in moderation so that I don’t over medicate myself, but when it comes to yakking with Porcelain John, there’s no avoiding it if it’s a bad bout. My tip for upchucking is: if you know that you are going to eventually dispose of the food that you just ate, chose foods that taste just about the same going out as they did going in, it reduces the nastiness of the whole ordeal.

It’s really a good thing (I guess) that I have no real appetite because Wednesday night my mom made chili for dinner and I really like chili. It smelled good, but past that, I had no real desire to actually partake in it. Even if my stomach happens to be growling, I have no interest in eating anything. When it does happen I’ll eat 2 or 3 Saltines and I’m pretty much good to go for the rest of the day.

At physical therapy the other day I ended up talking with Ralph2 (my portable Porcelain John) because the exercises made me nauseous and my dad said that he thought I handled it very well, because if the roles would have been reversed, it would have been “Clean up in Isle 4!”. I told him that I have become a pro at regurgitation; I’ve been forced into it by whatever this illness is. It’s a crummy thing to become proficient at, but I guess it’s better than not being good at anything at all!