wrecking bathrooms in 8 states

There's nothing worse than being so tired you can't sleep.

That's me, right here, tonight.

Sleep, lately, has been my friend. Sort of. Because I've been sleeping very weird hours.

Even for me.

I've been really sick.

Like "don't remember days" sick.

I have memories of pieces of days. Things that happened are like photographs in my brain, but as for memories? Well ...

I was that sick.

I haven't really told anyone because I hate being 'that guy' ... but if you've called, emailed, texted, wondered, worried or wondered if you were on my shit list ... trust me, you were not on the shit list.

I was on the shit list.


So if you have called, emailed, texted, or wondered where I've been, my bed, my couch and my toilet are the three main places since arriving home on Friday.

Basically, lemme start at the beginning of it.

July 12th ... we're getting ready to go see Aaron Tashjian of Swig Tooth do a solo acoustic show at Bernie's and I have a bit of rumble in my bowel. I thought it was gas.

It wasn't.

So I get cleaned up and change clothes and chew a couple of pepto tablets.

No big deal. I have had diarrhea before. And I'm not feeling ill, no fever, no chills, no stomach ache, nothing but some cramps and bloating. No biggie. Maybe it was something I ate.

Thursday, the 13th ... still rumbling. Still more pepto. Still no effect. It's still there.

Friday, the 14th ... still rumbling. Still more pepto. Still no effect. It's still there. Kara asks if I want to go to Chicago ... I'm still having no other symptoms, so we go. She'd ask me all the time ... I'd tell her I was feeling fine. And I was. Really.

Saturday, the 15th ... I'm in Chicago ... still rumbling. Still more pepto. Still no effect. It's still there.

Sunday, the 16th ... Milwaukee ... switch to Immodium ... still rumbling. Still no effect. It's still there.

Monday, the 17th ... Driving to St. Louis ... more Immodium ... still rumbling. Still no effect. It's still there.

Tuesday, the 18th ... in St. Louis ... yet more Immodium ... still rumbling. Still no effect.

Now I'm a bit concerned. I'm sucking down Gatorade like it's nobody's business to keep hydrated.

My appetite is gone but I'm trying to eat. Trying. And seeing whatever it is, a few hours later, undigested. Just flushed through my system.

Which fascinates me in that gross way we're all fascinated by our bodies (quit lying, we all have that "Damn, didn't realize my body could do that" thing)

And I'm still fascinated by this whole diarrhea thing, because I STILL have zero symptoms, other than wrecking bathrooms across the midwest.

Still no stomachache, no chills. no fever, nothing. Just lots of rumbles and the runs.

Wednesday the 19th ... Memphis, Nashville ... now I'm starting to feel a bit run down. Still have diarrhea. I'm thinking dysentery at this point. Really.

Thursday the 20th ... the gig is up. Kara is totally aware of how pasty I look, how much Gatorade I'm drinking and how little I'm eating.

She makes the call we're done, without seeing Sun Studios. Without seeing really anything in Nashville but Ernest Tubb's, another record store and the Hard Rock.

We leave.

About 30 minutes into this trip I realize I'm in no shape to drive. She takes over.

I don't remember the drive home. Luckily, I wasn't driving.

I don't remember anything about Nashville other than pieces of places we were in.

I don't remember driving home from her house after we got back.

I do remember calling CD101 to bitch about them playing some shitty hip hop song they're trying to pass off as alternative ... and being called "close minded" ... repeatedly and loudly ... by the shitty DJ for telling him that whatever he was playing was pretty much status quo on all R&B/Top40 radio stations.

Remember when CD101 used to be good? Me too.

I do remember going to the doctor on Friday and having him tell me that diahhrea for 10 days is a very very very bad thing. They recommend seeking professional help after 48 hours. Lesson learned.

Then they gave me a home chemistry kit to collect my own samples.

Lemme tell ya ... you haven't lived until you've sat your ass on a toilet with a plastic bowl between you and the water and had to aim your entirely liquid shit into a bowl ... then had to take that plastic bowl and redistribute said contents into four beakers and a specimen cup.

That, my friends, is among the most foul things I've ever done.

Which is why I'm glad I did it at the doctor's office.

And I got some wondrous medicine that is slowly killing whatever bacterial infection I have. The results of the tests basically said no parasite, which having seen Alien one too many times, is always a good thing.

I also got another medicine that makes me see double. Which is kind of cool, but kind of scary, too.

But it got rid of the diarrhea on the second day of taking it. So that's a total of 12 days I hope to never relive again.

It's called Lomox for those who are asking.

It makes staying awake tough.

It says "will cause drowsiness."

It says "will cause blurred vision."

And it does.

Because when you see double, and then things get blurry, and you, say, fall asleep without warning ... driving is really not recommended.

So I've been staying home a lot.

Kara toted me around Saturday to a few things. I'm sure I wasn't the greatest company. I'll have to ask what we did. I do remember a birthday party and cops (because I can't think of the plural of sheriff right now), but we stopped somewhere there were lots of black cars with stars on them.

And I have not been online much, because two of everything on the internet is hard to take.

Or reading.

Or watching TV.

Two reasons - first, I canceled my cable ... because why pay $45 for something I watch less than 2 hours a week?

And besides, I can watch the Colbert "Word" segment on Motherload at Comedy Central.

And second, because I'm (we're) going to be gone most of next month on a fabulous 19 day, 25-state, three-nation driving adventure.

No, you can't come.

Anyway ...

Today was the first day I actually felt like I was getting better. Like I was human again. And I really felt like doing something - anything - other than sleeping. Then when I was done with that, I wanted to sleep.

And couldn't.

Because I'm apparently too tired too sleep.

Which is why I started writing this in the first place.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

It's the whole not being able to remember things and being in a state of surrealness that is something I wonder about for days after I'm starting to feel better. Glad you survived that one :)