I awoke this morning a few minutes before my alarm was set to go off.
“Well. That’s odd,” I thought, and promptly rolled back under the covers for a few more minutes of peace. I didn’t think to wonder why until my stomach performed the gastrointestinal equivalent of slapping me upside the head when I turned on my side.
I knew exactly what that feeling was and did my best to ignore it. Stupid stomach. I had a final in half an hour. The least it could do was wait until I was finished.
I turned again, lying on my back; my stomach officially decided to give me the finger.
My body jumped up seemingly under its own volition, as my knee would have given out if I had knowingly tried to do the same thing. I scanned the room frantically, looking for a garbage bin, a cardboard box, an empty container of any sort. Considering the fact that I haven’t taken out the trash in well over a month, it’s not really a surprise I didn’t have any luck. I walked quickly to the door and carefully down the hall. I gagged about three feet away from the bathroom and prayed to Bog I would get there on time. I rushed in and headed for an open stall.
I’m not going to try to describe the mechanics of vomiting with a torn ACL. Suffice to say, it added a whole ‘nother level of discomfort to the procedure. After I was able to breathe again, I walked over to the sink… and then back to the toilet. This lovely cycle continued for about ten minutes. I hobbled back to my room after waving away an offer of help from some poor unfortunate who wandered in to the lav at the wrong time. I got dressed, gimped my way to my Intro toexam, vomited again, offered my apologies, and gimped my way back.
I’m in my room now as I write this, shirtless and sweating. Christ, I want to open a window, but that sort of thing is strictly Against the Rules when you’ve got a fever. The only thing I can hope for now is that everything’ll all go away when I close my eyes. Yeah. And monkeys will fly out of my ass.