Passing Ill

Normal is not sleeping through the night. At least not anymore. But tonight is different. Tonight I feel unsettled, clutching my stomach as it heaves and rolls, leaving me only seconds before I follow swiftly behind it into the bathroom, holding myself up with the palms of my two hands shoved hard against two walls as I sink slowly to the floor in a heap of rapid expulsion.

I wait for the moment to pass, noting the plush burgundy rug beneath my bottom separating me from the ice cold floor. And I think to myself - worst case scenario, that is - that sleeping here might not be too bad of an idea. It beats the going back to bed, lying still for a moment, only to find myself running again to heave myself ill over the toilet bowl.

And now I realize what I've caught. The same thing that KC suffered from last week, yet my forehead for now seems cool despite the storm that rises and swells within me. Tired I lay my head back on the couch, coming in contact with a soft body of fur purring contentedly away and I cannot help but smile at the way Emma stays near when she knows I'm not feeling well.

I begin to think about bed. Twenty minutes at least since the last episode I consider returning to my soft pillow, my warm duvet. My eyes flutter closed and I have a hard time fighting with them to reopen long enough to finish this sentence. Yes, perhaps it is safe now to think about sleep. I'm sleeping as I type this.