Tuesday, December 16, 2008


Growing up, it seemed like one of the old standby gifts from dear old Saint Nick was a case of the flu. Often enough, I would either be horizontal in bed or all shaky and weak on Christmas morning from becoming best friends with our throw up pan.

Warning: I just skimmed back through this and almost felt the need for the pan I'm describing. This isn't for those with weak stomachs.

We had a designated throw up pan. Everyone I tell about it gets this gross look on their face, and I figure they think my family is crazy. As a result, I usually "forget" to tell them that this pan was one of the most sought after items when my parents downsized and relocated. My sister managed to get it first, and I'm sure most of my siblings were disappointed. It was the perfect pan for the following reasons:

1. It was all dented, so it would never have worked for cooking. As a result, it stood out, and we never accidentally used it to cook edible food in.
2. It was the perfect width. Some of the smaller pots really force the sickie to aim, something they can't always do really well.
3. It was the perfect depth. It wasn't a giant stew pot, but it was deep enough to hold all the necessities. It also meant it could easily be cleaned out in the sink in between sessions.
4. It didn't have a huge handle that would gouge you as you tried to sleep. I usually kept this thing tucked under my arm, and it worked just fine because it had two tiny little nubs that allowed for maximum grip and stability without having to deal with a huge handle.
(End Tangent)

I would as often as not be on a regimen of Sprite and Saltines, which to this day remind me of being sick.

The reason I'm writing all of this is that I think I'm getting sick a little early this year. The weird part is that I don't have a sore throat/headache/stomach ache or any of the other dreaded symptoms. Yesterday morning, I woke up feeling exhausted, and not just the normal exhaustion that comes with knowing you have a full work week ahead of you. Buttoning up my shirt left me winded.

The best way I've found to describe it is that it feels like someone has turned up the gravity. My whole body feels heavy, and I feel like I suddenly weigh enough that my chair is in danger of flattening underneath me.


JMadd said...

I think the idea of a throw up pan is nasty, but I'm starting to think I'm the only one. My BFF prefers the throw up pan over the toilet.

Meredith said...

To avoid spillage, our throw up pan is the size of a canning pot with necessary handles on the sides.