A very yucky post.

[siannan]

I didn't mention this earlier because I thought y'all would be disgusted. Then I remembered: I don't give a shit about your sensitive natures! Stop being such fucking delicate blossoms and revel in the muck!



Anyway.

There was this rumor back in the day that David Dinkins perspired so much in his sleep that he had to put a sponge on his mattress. Now, thanks to the various meds I take, I am also prone to nightsweats/hot flashes, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Until today.

I let J. tuck me into bed before he left for work, and popped two Nyquil and an extra Tylenol for good measure, since I had a whiplash headache from coughing and I wanted to sleep all day. I should also mention that I have cold extremities from low blood pressure, and this virus isn't helping me warm up any. So J. piled the blankies on me as usual. Good good. He left. I slept.

I woke up around 5pm, warm as toast. Lovely. Then I thought, huh, why am I...*squelching*? My ear tickled. I stuck an oddly pruney finger in it and found it was full of...water? wtf? I wiggled my feet. *splush splush*.

I thought I had wet the bed, but I had to piss like a racehorse so I knew that couldn't be it, besides, it was ALL OVER.

I sat bolt upright, and shrieked at the cold air penetrating my soaking-wet flannel nightie and freezing my back. I fought my way out of the thing and grabbed some slightly grubby (yet blissfully dry) clothes off the floor. I stumbled to the bathroom, took care of business, and stumbled back to the bed, which was...

NASTY. I am not exaggerating when I say that at least a gallon of fluid seeped from my pores while I slept. I guess my fever broke drowned like the Hoover Dam burst. I peeled back the blankets and segregated the dry from the moist, but stopped short of stripping the sheets because I absolutely hate fighting with fitted sheets and I was still dead tired and did I mention I have not eaten in three days? Then I bumbled into the office and called J., whimpering that I needed his help with laundry. Not until he got home did he realize the extent of the mischegas ("Jesus Christ, woman! SOAKING!").

I wanted to go back to bed, but I wasn't gonna chance sweating up the other side as well, regardless of the beauty of waterproof mattress covers (hooray!). So I dragged the best blanket from the dry pile and rolled myself into a ball on the sofa and watched Friends and shivered uncontrollably until he came home and gave me raspberry yogurt and put in two loads of wash and helped me get downstairs and into the shower where I cried because the hot water and lavender soap felt so good.

I wonder where Dinkins bought his sponge.

Comments

[drbagpipes.livejournal.com]

I've only had one fever break and not even in such a fantastic fashion, but it was pretty cool when I thought about it later.