Expelling a Demon Can Be Painful


This week I expelled a demon.  No really.  I mean I am pretty sure that is what happened.  It for sure felt that way and might not have been a real demon.  But you don’t know.  Don’t judge me for thinking that I had a demon living inside me after what happened.  It really could have been.  I have watched enough Supernatural to know that expelling a demon can be quite a messy business. But, what I didn’t know was how painful it can be.

It started out with me waking up and feeling rotten.  I mean super rotten.  My stomach hurt and I was trying to sleep for work, but the pain would not stop.  I laid in bed, wondering what the heck was wrong.  I do have some trouble with my gut in general, but this felt out of the norm, even for me.  Then the abdominal cramps and nausea hit me.  Ugh.  The worst.  Let me clue you in on something.  There are two things I hate the most.  Sore throats and nausea.  Sore throats…what the heck are those and why.  Why does your throat have to sometimes feel like you ae swallowing razor blades every time you swallow?  Never mind trying to drink or eat, or even sometimes talk.  There is no need for that.  It’s not like you can sit there and not swallow your own saliva at all.  I mean, I guess you could and wear a bib and just let it all drool out onto yourself, but that might be frowned upon in public.  Or you could pretend you are a loose mental patient and just wander around drooling and making noises since you can’t talk due to the razor blades that are in your throat.  Totally doable.  As you can tell, I really do not have a very good tolerance to a sore throat and even less for nausea.  I can deal with abdominal cramping because I would much rather poop up a storm than vomit.  Vomiting is the worst.  So there I was, trying to figure out what the heck I ate and then realizing I hadn’t eaten anything since like 4pm the day before.  That was 16 hours prior to all of this starting.  There is no way this is food poisoning.  Food poisoning, for those who do not know, has about a three-hour window where you get sick.  I was trying to figure out if this was an ulcer attack when I had to jump up and run for the restroom.  Luckily, it didn’t start out as vomiting, if you catch my drift.  I thought to myself  “while this is not pleasant and feels like fire water coming out of my butthole, I can handle this.  This is ok. I can pee fire water out of my butt.”  I seriously would so much rather have fiery water coming out of me with cramping, then hugging the toilet bowl and vomit.  I could take something to stop it and still work.  All right I got this.

I got back in bed and took something to help with the cramping and such and fell back asleep for about an hour.  Then, the obvious creature dwelling inside me decided to stir.  Holy crap.  It was that moment when you can’t decide what is going to be worse, waiting for the nausea to pass or just vomit.  I decided to try to wait it out and took another form of medication called Zofran to help.  20 minutes later, everything took a horrible awful turn.  I ended up running for the toilet, grabbing a hair clip to pull back my hair and just in time getting my necklace off.  If you have long hair, you get it.  Nothing worse than your hair ending up in the toilet bowl while you are dying.  As I knelt there on my bathroom floor emptying my stomach contents in a violent fashion, the wort decision of my life happened.  Can I stop vomiting long enough to get my butt on the toilet? Nope.  Totally did not happen.  It was like that scene in the movie Bridesmaids where the bride with uncontrollable diarrhea says “It’s happening.  I am shitting in the street.”  So that happened.  Worst thing ever to have absolutely no control over what is coming out of either end of your body at the same time.  Humiliating.  This went on for hours. I didn’t even fell like I could leave the bathroom. Work was out of the question.  In fact, I decided to lay on my bathroom floor, sans chonies, because why bother at that point if it was going to come out both ends at the same time. I pulled a towel down to lay on and wondered what the heck I did to deserve this.  Then it hit me.  This is a demon.  I am expelling a demon.  Has to be it.  There is no other explanation.  Totally what it is. Has to be.  A demon.  Yup.

Now, you have to realize, at this point I am delirious with pain, dehydration and have taken even more anti nausea medication to try to stop all of this without any success.  It really does have to be a demon.  I looked around trying to see if maybe my Bubby or BFF had snuck into my bathroom or bedroom and drawn a Devil’s trap there to help me out.  Because maybe I didn’t realize I was possessed by a demon and they did.  Maybe the Winchester brothers were going to come any moment now and there I am, laying on my bathroom floor with no panties on, covered in a sheen of sweat, smelling like death I am sure.  Oh that would be so unfortunate.  No one needs to see that, least of all Dean Winchester **swoon**.  That would be so my luck.  Fat Girl humiliation at it’s finest.  I wondered if I even had enough energy to go grab some salt to swallow to try to expel the demon even faster, but opted to just go to bed instead.

12 hours later.  No.  Really.  12 hours this lasted, the expelling of the demon that was in me.  Finally, it left.  Exiting me, leaving my soul intact (or at least I hope so), but without the big plume of black smoke they always show on Supernatural, to find another body to invade.  I woke the next morning and went to get out of bed and realized there was a lasting effect to throwing yourself on the floor and hugging the toilet bowel for so long when you are older.  My back was out.  Are you freaking kidding me?  This had never happened before.  The fiery pain of the diarrhea had now been replaced by shooting pains into my ass in the form of sciatica flare up.  I hated this demon.  My ass was on fire in such a worst way and I could barely stand without pain.  Awesome.  So glad this was now my life.  Stupid demon.  Stupid getting old.  Is this now what is going to happen to me every time I have to vomit violently for hours?  My back is going to go out?  What did I do to deserve this?  Great. So now, after expelling the demon that was living inside me, I ahve back pain.  Thank goodness for pain medication, a tens unit, lidocaine patches and a visit with my massage therapist in a few days.

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  Oh my goodness, I felt like I was going to die for 12 hours but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl who actually threw my back out violently expelling a demon and wondering if the Winchester brothers were going to witness my humiliation Running.  The experiment continues…

How To Tell When BFF Is REALLY Sick


Over SuperBowl weekend, BFF and I went on our annual We Hate The Superbowl trip to Disneyland.  We needed a Dole Whip fix you see.  We also needed some fun after having so much grief in such a short period.  So off to the Happiest Place on Earth it was.  Just the two of us.  We made it a short trip and good thing we did because who would have thought that poor BFF would get sick.  And when she gets sick, she gets SICK.  So here is how to tell when BFF is REALLY sick.

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Dole Whip Fix!

The trip started out normally except that BFF complained that her allergies were terrible and that her nose was runny from them.  We really didn’t think anything of it to be honest.  I mean, I know life was throwing us tomatoes and neither one of us was sleeping much, but we really didn’t think she was sick.  I noticed more kleenex growing in a pile next to her in the car like Tribbles, but really I didn’t think she was sick. It was like the kleenex were breeding.  And BFF kept insisting it was allergies.  Then the coughing started.  And I mean coughing.  Hmmmmmm…..

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Even in the rain, we keep going
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I can see here in her eyes she doesn’t feel the best

Fast forward to one night when we came back to get our jackets to continue the night and so BFF could check in with her Momma.  I took the time to lounge on the bed and found a Harry Potter movie to entertain myself.  I mean, my feet needed a rest anyways and I was in no hurry to go back.  I did run over to the Club and grab us some foods to nosh on once she was done talking with her Momma and filling her in on all the fun we were having.  BFF finished her call, came and lounged next to me and we shoved some amazing foods in our gobs.  Next thing I know, we are still lounging watching Harry Potter and I realized something….BFF didn’t feel good.  There is no way she would let us just lounge in the room and watch a movie if she felt good.  I turned to her and asked her how she was feeling.  When she looked at me, I could see in her eyes she didn’t feel her best and she replied “I must not feel that good if it isn’t bothering me that we are just laying here watching Harry Potter instead of playing in the park.”  I then watched her  have a coughing fit and heard her wheezing next to me.  I handed her my inhaler and she agreed to use it, feeling better but not admitting she was sick.

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Despite her not feeling her best and us deciding she must take it easy, she persevered and got some amazing sleep.  We had a great time, despite her still not wanting to admit she was sick and our trip ended a little too soon.  We packed up and headed down to load up the car.  The valet brought the car around and I started helping put the bags where we wanted them for the drive home.  I turned to ask BFF where she wanted a bag and noticed she was on the phone.  Thinking she must be talking to her Momma, I figured it out and we climbed in.  It was then I heard her conversation and realized what she was doing….making a doctor’s appointment for the next morning.  BFF NEVER goes to the doctor unless she feels totally crappy (nurses make the WORST patients).  I mean NEVER.  Her spleen could be hanging outside her body and she would just slap some Saran wrap and duck tape over it and continue on with her day.  Like her spleen should just be hanging around outside her body.  Completely normal folks.  She once broke her toe and it was hanging off to the side.  What did she do?  Put it back in place and taped it to the other toe and put on her shoe and came to work.  BFF is a badass people.  She really never does go to the doctor.  Not even for check ups.  No joke.  So to hear her on the phone making a doctor’s appointment?  She REALLY did not feel good.   I looked at her questioningly when she got off the phone and she said to me “I think I am sick.”  Poor BFF.  And what a trooper to power through a trip at Disneyland.

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Nope. Not sick at all.

By the way, she was totally sick.  Bronchitis.  Antibiotics, and inhaler and steroids.  But you know, it was just allergies.

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did discover what a trooper my BFF is and wish she would have just admitted she didn’t feel good but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl with a BFF who can’t ever admit she is sick until she is REALLY sick Running.  The experiment continues…

When You Make Up A New Word That Is Unnervingly Accurate


We all know I like to make up words from time to time but really my words do accurately describe things.  Unnervingly so.  I mean stoob, when your stomach meets your boobs, is a perfect example.  It really does describe something and I definitely have a stoob. I am sure some of you can relate to that and to Chub Rub, which we all know afflicts those of us Fat Girls without a thigh gap.  So see, making up terms sometimes is a good thing.  After all, they do have a whole thing called Urban Dictionary to describe slang vernacular.  I wish stoob and Chub Rub were in there and I could be credited with creating them.  That might be all kinds of awesome.  Anyways, me making up words is really not a new thing but sometimes a necessity.  Don’t you do this to describe things in your life?  You should try it.  Your word might catch on, you never know.

The other night at work, I decided to coin a new word out of necessity.  I mean, it was 6:30 am and we were a little slap happy with it being the end of a busy shift but honestly, the word was really needed to describe what a poor kid had on the floor.  Sometimes this is when the best words are created, when you least expect it.  This word is one I can unfortunately relate to and so can a lot of you.  It is unnervingly accurate.  So here is my word that I coined and it’s definition:

Shemesis:  n.  A condition in which you perform the act of simultaneously shitting and vomiting at the same time.  (We call vomiting emesis in the medical field).  The worst.

Good word, no?  I mean it does the job.  It describes exactly the predicament you are in when you might have this condition. Can you relate?  Oh I can and it is not pretty.  Let’s just say having shemesis is not a fun condition in the least.  I have been this sick so I completely sympathize with this patient that had this the other night.  I might have laughed at my poor co-worker who had to deal with it because we used the Wheel of Destiny to decide who got an admit and he definitely got the raw end of that spin and I might have done a dance of joy to not have to clean up shemesis.  But really, shemesis is no laughing matter.  Have you ever been afflicted with shemesis?  Let’s discuss this.

Shemesis can be your worst nightmare when you are sick.  I mean nobody likes to vomit to begin with and add the shitting part on top of it.  Utter humiliation.  I mean if you are lucky, the pooping starts first and your butt is already over the toilet bowl when you have to start having it spew out of you at both ends.  That is easy to rectify if you have a trash can nearby.  But let’s imagine the other scenario.  There you are, praying to the Porcelain God when you realize it is going to come out the wrong end.  Oh dear, What do you do?  Do you see if you can quickly whip your pants down and get your ass over the toilet or do you just decide to humiliate yourself and fill your pants with liquid?  This is a terrifying possibility and hopefully you are not in public when schemesis hits you.  I mean, what do you do then?  This might be my worst nightmare.  I have no idea what I would even do in tif this happened in public except hope that I could get out of the public bathroom with my dignity intact.  It is a game of chance I tell you.  And one you will not win.  Either way, you lose and usually by that time, you do not care because you feel as if you are expelling a demon.  I have been here and let’s say a shower was needed afterwards and I just threw those pants away.  I could not make the transition quick enough so it was just badness all around.  Shemesis can make the best of us feel like we are helpless and disgusting at the same time.

If you have a spouse when you have shemesis, you might discover the depth of their love for you.  Are they willing to clean you up or help you in the shower if you are unlucky enough to have your butt over the floor? Will they help you dispose of the evidence of shemesis or will they stare at you in abject horror with a mask and gloves on and run the other way?  Shemesis is a true test of love.  Your spouse might be smiling sympathetically at you but screaming in horror internally.  Sometimes nurses do this.  For reals.  Sometimes we appear calm and collected while internally we are screaming in horror at what we have to deal with because our jobs are gross.  Plain and simple.  Or we come up with a word to accurately describe the horror we have witnessed to help us laugh at 6:30 am.

screaming dean

There are just two words to describe that shift.  Bleach wipes.

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did coin a new phrase that is unnervingly accurate in my job but I didn’t die (I also didn’t have to take the patient thank goodness).  I am Fat Girl who has unfortunately experienced shemesis and the humiliating after effects Running.  The experiment continues…