Thursday, January 25, 2007

VOMIT

It comes in many sizes, many shapes, and many colors. As I currently have a puking infant at home, I was reminded of my own bouts with regurgitation. It sounded like a blog entry to me! So here are three of my more memorable vomit stories.

My first memory comes when I was about three years old. I had come down with some sort of ailment. And for whatever reason, I couldn’t keep any food down at all. So naturally my parents took me to the hospital. It was the one on Reed Avenue in Manitowoc. I think it was called Memorial Hospital at that time. But today I think it’s called Holy Family Memorial. Did Holy Family expand to include every hospital in Manitowoc? Anyway, I was dehydrated. And if memory serves, no one could figure out what was wrong with me. I stayed in the hospital for a few days. And at one pint, they actually had to insert tubes into both of my legs. Why? I don’t know. It must have hurt though, because I have vague memories of them working on me, and me screaming and crying my fool head off.

Now, I don’t remember this. But my parents do. And my dad has mentioned it many times over the years. Apparently I didn’t like having tubes in my legs. So at some point, I pulled them out – both of them. My dad recalls the doctor yelling at the nurses on staff for not keeping an eye on me. I don’t know why. But I can’t help but smile when I think about that.

A few days later, I was released. What I had remains a mystery. But I recall leaving with orange legs. I don’t know if they put something on my legs or what. But they were a pretty sickly-looking orange.

Fast forward to about age six. My mom had made brownies. But they were for dessert. I had the standard “If you eat everything on your plate” routine going. All was well, with one exception. On that night, my parents had cooked beets as a side dish. Now, I’m a firm believer that no one on this planet likes beets. How could they? They taste like shit. Granted, for those who know me, you know that I hate vegetables. I can’t eat them. I wish I could. But I can’t. They all taste awful to me. I can’t stomach them.

Well, even in my anti-veggie world, there’s a pecking order of what I can tolerate, if I absolutely must. With the possible exception of cauliflower, beets are on the bottom of that list.

I tried to eat them. Oh how I tried. The lure of those brownies was strong! On normal nights, I might try to hide my carrots or beans inside my milk. But there was no hiding on this night. I had to get them down in order to get that wonderful chocolaty goodness that was to follow. But it was not to be. After one swallow, up it came – along with the rest of my dinner. It went all over my plate and all over the table. I think my parents learned something that night. In the 30 years since, a beet has not graced my lips. Oh, and for the record, I did get a brownie for my efforts.

Fast forward another 10 years. I was now a freshman in high school. During 7th, 8th and 9th grade, I became a big fan of professional wrestling. I loved the personalities. I loved the bullshit. It was fun. So my dad and I used to truck up to Brown County Arena every month to watch the AWA or WWF grapplers in action. If there was any doubt that there are indeed some white trash people in Wisconsin, all one has to do is attend some wrestling matches. I think I had just as much fun people watching as I did watching the matches. I always thought professional wrestling was for kids. But as my dad pointed out, the parking lot was always full. Think about it.

Well on the last Sunday in March of 1986, we attended another show. Hell, it may have been the last wrestling matches I ever saw. Anyway, on that night, my dad and I really pigged out. We ate hot dogs and popcorn – which was unusual for us. Then on the way home, we stopped at a gas station and each got a big bag of chips. I kid you not, I ate my entire bag. We ended up getting home around 10:30. And I went to bed.

For whatever reason, I was restless. I couldn’t sleep. After several hours, I decided on a change of scenery. So I moved to the living room couch. It still didn’t work. By now it was around 3:30 in the morning. I had about three hours left before I had to get up for school. I figured there was no way I could go to school now, as I knew I would be dead tired. So I decided to stick my finger down my throat.

Now, I could have done this in the toilet. However, my parents were wise to me. They knew I was a faker. And unless they saw some proof, I was going to school. So I let loose on the living room floor. And based on everything I’d ingested that evening, it was a pile of epic proportions! When I was all said and done, I left a pile of vomit roughly the size of a football (in height and length) on the floor. You know how if you eat a bunch of potato chips or Doritos, and you crunch them up, but don’t swallow them, you’re left with this thick, soggy ball of goo? Well that’s what this pile was. It was as solid a pile of puke as the world has ever seen. There was no liquid. It was solid mush.

I went and told my dad that I was sick. He then cleaned up the mess. It was awful. He was trying to use paper towels. But it was really too massive for paper towels. He ended up swiping it up, making various divots in the structure each time. He would have been better off using a shovel or a pooper scooper.

I stayed home sick on Monday. In fact, I stretched that sickness out for two weeks – a record for me! I ended up sticking my finger down my throat nearly everyday. Of course I felt really guilty when my parents took me to the hospital at one point. Aside from the guilt, I did have fun those two weeks though. I watched a lot of movies. Plus the Brewers’ season started, and I watched their first few games. It was a great time.

So there’s three of my more memorable vomits. And to think, not one of these stories involved drinking. If you want my best vomiting story involving drinking, check out my class of 1989 blog and read about Scott Jaklin. And for my best laughing/volcano moment with vomit, read my entry on Jeff “Meff” Messerman.

Now, tell me about your best vomit stories!

1 comment:

Gregg said...

I, umm, like beets.

Or at least...
...I used to until I read this entry.