Yesterday was a pretty good, lazy day. I ran some errands, I planned on going out to Roscoe's with some friends. Around 5pm, though, everything took a turn for the worse. I started to feel sick to my stomach out of nowhere. I figured I must have eaten one too many rootbeer barrels but no, it was the stomach flu.
Last night was one of the worst nights I can remember. I was so so so sick. I couldn't even keep down two mouth fulls of water, which was all I wanted due to the fact that I was severely dehydrated. I tried to sleep it off, but I was either too hot or too cold. I tried a bath, I tried a cold compress. Nothing was helping. I was miserable.
By midnight, however, I was able to keep down some water, which I drank greedily. Around that same time I head noises outside my room and discovered that my younger brother James was sick, too. By 3am, David joined the ranks of the sick. It was then that I was able to finally fall into a restful sleep. 5am rolled around and Aaron banged on my door, asking for the medicine. When I ventured out of bed around 9am, I discovered that my Dad was the only one who remained unscathed by the Stomach Flu of Evil.
Aside from some aches in my body, I feel 100% better. I'm glad it was a short bug, because last night was honestly terrible. It was so awful. And now it's Christmas Eve and my whole family seems disabled. Everyone is in bed, no one wants to do anything except reel from the night from hell.
Merry Christmas to us.