Thursday, September 23, 2010


Several years ago, when hubby and I were in the throes of dating, there happened a day when I felt extremely ill after working a 12 hour night shift at the hospital. That morning I decided not to go home. (Hubby will now be referred to as bf)

Bf was not happy when I decided to pay him a visit at 7:00 in the morning. At the time, keeping my torso parallel with the floor helped to lessen the stomach pain. I hobbled over to him hunched over like Gollum. I even peered up at him sideways which only served to enhance my crippled form. Bf opened his eyes and this is what he saw:

I feel sick! Help me!
I woke him up to tell him how miserable I felt, but seemed only to receive very annoyed looks from him as he ordered me to stop walking bent over like an invalid. I told him it was a method of survival from the stomach pain. He didn't believe me.

At the same time, I was hungry, and couldn't tell if my stomach pains were that of hunger or of a bug-induced irritated bowel. I asked in my sickly voice if maybe, possibly, bf could get me something to eat.

Food? Please?
Disgruntled and annoyed, he stormed out of his warm bed to cook me some ramen noodles- the spicy kind was all he had. When I slurped up my first chopstick full of Shin ramen noodles, I realized just how famished I was. I quickly ate a few more bites, but then suddenly felt ill again. I stopped eating with still a full bowl of ramen left.

I glanced up at bf pitifully. "I don't think I can eat anymore." The look on his face was one of frustrated disapproval. "Eat it. I made that for you," he commanded. I glanced back down at my bowl of spicy ramen and felt guilty that he had gone through all the trouble of making it for me. I forced down more ramen noodles until the bowl was near empty, then curled up on his bed in the fetal position and whined. My stomach still ached, but it seemed to have subsided a bit with the food.

I think I'll be okay now
10 minutes later I could feel it- the ramen noodles were protesting in my stomach. I managed a feeble "I feel sick," before I bolted out of bed and grabbed the nearest object with which to contain my stomach contents- bf's trash can. You know the somewhat satisfying feeling you get after vomiting? Like all the bad stuff is out of your system now and you can rest in peace? This was nothing at all like that.

It burns!
The hot, spicy mess of ramen was agonizing as it hurled out of stomach, burned its way up my esophagus, and into my sinuses. It was like I had snorted a pound of red hot pepper powder into my nostrils after drinking a gallon of tabasco sauce. I writhed in pain as the spicy ramen bf had guilt-tripped me into eating poured out of me like a scene from The Exorcist.

My stomach bug was such that I vomited extremely fiery, peppery ramen 3 more times- to the point where I thought I had surely caused 3rd degree burns to my esophagus. In-between the episodes I accused bf of his cruel and ingenious method of torture. He didn't believe my horrifying experience of upchucking spicy ramen.

Bf found himself cleaning out a trash can full of half-digested spicy ramen in the bathroom 8:00 in the morning a total of 3 times. The fourth time I somehow managed to make it to the bathroom toilet. My face was a swollen thing of tears and snot- not because of any emotional toil, but because the red pepper flakes had combined with my stomach acid and had somehow transformed into LAVA.

Exhausted from my battle with the toilet, feeling sicker than ever, I returned to bf's bed and slept the rest of the afternoon. A couple days later, I had recovered and left on a vacation to visit my parents.

That night, after arriving at my parent's house, I received a phone call from bf.
"I'm SO SORRY, I am a HORRIBLE bf and will NEVER treat you like that EVER AGAIN!"

Apparently, bf caught whatever bug I had. Bf had such stomach pains that he couldn't stand up straight. He had to hobble in a Gollum-like manner to the drugstore in order to buy himself some Pepto Bismol. Apparently, earlier that day, grandma had cooked bf some spicy korean kimchee soup which had had eagerly consumed... and vomited for several hours afterwards in burning agony over the toilet. Apparently, bf had spent all day curled up on his bed in utter misery, confessing to God that he had been a bad bf and yes, he had learned his lesson.

Ever since that incident, hubby has been good to me whenever I'm tired or sick. He pampers me and doesn't doubt my suffering or pain anymore. Most of all, we've both learned to stay away from spicy foods when even remotely suspicious of being sick, though you don't always know until it's too late.


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