It wasn’t the catfish and it wasn’t food poisoning. Nah, it turned out to be old-fashioned, gut-wrenching, colon-flushing, stomach-contents hurling, fever-raging flu.
And, as I always try to do with my bride of 26 years, I shared. Good thing this house has three bathrooms.
Sunday started out looking better but queasiness sat back in Sunday night and Monday dawned feverish and bowel-contentious. Then things seemed to get better by late afternoon and I tried to eat something.
Wrong. By midnight, back on my knees in the john, testing the limits of my stomach muscles and the Thompson septic system.
Amy? She’s somewhere in the house, not too far from a bathroom, probably plotting my demise in some gruesome way for sharing this demon called the flu.
Hope you and Amy get over the CRUD soon. Flu season has peaked later than normal this year. The hospital is full of patients with the flu. Take care and tell Amy to watch CSI before she does you in…..Later, Darrell
So it wasn’t Deputy Dawg after all!
I too hope you get completely well very soon, and will take this opportunity to say I enjoy your writing and your photograpy. I would love to see some pictures of the artwork that your wife does as well. Also I wanted to ask what is going on with Capitol Hill Blue which has been removed from the web?
bummer…at least now you can go back to eating blackened catfish..although methinks food is the last thing on your mind lately.