It's a Theory

My first year living at Alegria started with a flood of tears.  So tangled were my emotions one year ago today that all I could do was sit amid the stacks of boxes and bawl my eyes out.  I’m happy to report that things got better.  This past year has been awesome!

My second year started out much worse.  I went to bed on the eve of my one-year anniversary feeling a bit out of sorts.  My tummy ached a little, but I didn’t give it much thought.  I laid down, propped up my book and started reading.  Barely a page into this evening ritual, a devastating pain shot through my mid-section the likes of which I have not experienced in several decades.  I’m not one to get sick often and in spite of the gut-wrenching cramp, I forced myself to relax and breathe and focussed my attention back on the story.  The pain passed.  Momentarily.

For the next five hours I laid in bed hoping that the waves of agony would subside and pass.  They only got worse.  With each new cramp, a fresh patina of cold sweat oozed out of my skin.  I laid there shivering under the blankets, concentrating on staying as relaxed as possible and keeping my breathing deep. 

I hate vomiting.  I cannot overstate that fact.  The very idea makes me nauseous!

But at 3 a.m. I conceded to the barf gods and made a dash to the bathroom where I spent the next 45 minutes hurling rejected hotdogs and chips into the bowl.  When, at last, my stomach was empty of the offending repast I managed to clean up, rinse my mouth and stagger back to bed.  I was exhausted.

All I could think about was all my plans for my one-year anniversary being flushed down the drain.  Literally! 

I had planned to go yard saling with my daughter first thing, then wash Alegria’s windows, then go to Smithers with a friend for lunch followed by an eye appointment.  At that moment, though, desperate for sleep and feeling like I’d been run over by a truck, none of it seemed even remotely possible.  I texted my daughter to let her know that I was not likely to show up and then fell fast, fast asleep.

Oddly enough, my eyes popped open at 7:40 and I knew that I was not going to go back to sleep.  I didn’t feel terrible, so I put on a pot of coffee and got dressed.  At a few minutes after eight, I was out the door and on my way to pick up my daughter and hit the yard listed in the PV Express. 

It was a disappointing venture.  Of the three I was aware of, we only found one and it didn’t have much to offer.  Oh, well.  There was always window washing!

The window-washing fell prey to a decided lack of vim or vigour.  I puttered about for a while, but never managed to pick up the vinegar, let alone go into the basement for newspapers to clean the windows with.  

I was determined to make the lunch and eye appointment, though.  At 11:30 I left again to pick up my friend and drive to Smithers.  I was hungry, but didn’t trust my tummy just yet.  We opted for a light lunch at a diner on Main Street after a Canadian Tire run that netted me a 428-piece tool set, a BBQ and some new cups and glasses.  The eye appointment was uneventful.  I managed to avoid having my pupils dilated again (I hate that almost as much as I hate vomiting) and also managed to obtain a pair of glasses that did not require me to re-mortgage the house.  It was then time to go home.

Not a total loss!

I had hoped to add a nice gathering around the fire pit to top off my anniversary.  But I’m must too tired to bother. 

Some would say that puking is not a very good way to start my second year of independence and self-finding.  (I’m pretty sure I’m around here somewhere!)  But if the first year started in tears and got so good, I can only imagine the wonders the second year will bring after such a purge. 

It’s a theory!