So, you heard about the cruise ships that had to dock over the weekend to “decontaminate” after being hit by a norovirus outbreak? Well, here on the S.S. Boogers & Burps last week we were docked for the same reason. Oh, yes. Good times were had by all. Especially by the captain of this ship, who seemed to bear the brunt of the attack. (And yes, of course I’m talking about me!)
It started Wednesday right after lunch. At first, I thought that the Mexican food I had just snarfed down was not agreeing with my “sensitive” stomach. (For the record, I’m being “sensitive” to my stomach by calling it “sensitive” and not “pansy-ass” as I’d really like to call it. Seriously, if I’m going to have to turn 40, get fat and develop cystic acne, could I at least enjoy some cheese while I’m going down the toilet?!) And speaking of toilet…
Kidding. I won’t share with you the gory details — yet. But once I started having the chills and whole-body aches, I knew these were no mere digestive issues we were dealing with. It was a full-on viral attack, and those bugs were kicking butt and taking names.
And then came the burps. Truly, I only tell you this because they were so crazy loud that I really wish I could’ve had the strength to record them. I was burping like a freakin’ sailor. I mean, those babies were large and in charge. Each time one would erupt from me I was both a bit frightened and more than a little amused.
I spent a good 36 hours at least in my bed, which I usually had to share with a puppy who didn’t seem to get that I was not in the mood to play “bite the hand” or — my favorite — “hey, let me get my fever-riddled body out of bed to chase you down the hall and rip the dirty sock you just snatched out of your mouth.” I was really starting to miss having the energy and undizziness to even do stuff I hate, like washing the dishes and putting away laundry. That tells you just how crappy I felt.
On Thursday the burps started to subside a little, and I thought maybe I was getting better — but then all of a sudden things went south. Literally. I was stuck on the poop deck, without a paddle.
Finally, after surviving on Saltines and warm 7-Up, I found my sea legs sometime Saturday morning. Then it was time to begin assessing the damage. Not only did the captain look like something the catfish had dragged in, but the ship had suffered extensive damage as well.
Cleanup estimates are still being totaled.
Here’s hoping you steer clear of this one!