Hullo there! Yes, I am still here. Things have happened! I will type.
We’ve finished the longest leg of the tour! The worst is behind us (if you can call it that, I don’t like to, but you get what I’m saying) and we’re home for Easter. I almost made it. I say almost because after we had finished the last show before coming home, I got sick. It was impeccable timing really.
On the night of our last show on the west coast I was having terribly uncomfortable dreams. I seem to remember groaning and curling up in the fetal position, saying over and over “It burns”. Waking up from what I thought was an alien inside me, I found out I wasn’t much better off.
Flinging off the ample folds of hotel linen that enveloped me, I dashed for the toilet in pitch darkness. Tripping over a suitcase, a bed and multiple shoes, I flung open the washroom door and threw my guts up. After the damage was done, I flipped on the light and found to my amazement that all the milkshake and cold cut sandwich had made it into the toilet bowl (thanks to masculine forgetfulness).
I flushed, stood up, and found Jordan and Austin standing behind me; wearing nothing but briefs, blinking at the light, and wondering if a tornado had passed through. The usual manly grunts of “you ok?” - “yeah, I think” - “ok” were passed around and we all went back to bed.
Then the worst night of my life ensued. I probably got up what felt like every 10-20 minutes, but in reality was probably every hour, to throw up again. It got to the point where nothing was coming up and my body was just being a jerk (seriously, I think I probably mumbled it in between heaves). Half way through the night I laid out my blanket and pillows by the washroom to avoid the journey across suitcase land, over bed mountain, and through shoe forest.
Morning finally broke and the guys found me on the carpet beside the washroom door, thinking, I’m sure, that I had passed out; or at least until I suddenly get up and retch again. I started counting my episodes at this point, I will mention them with a *(retch)*. Normal morning procedures are carried out around me, and I tried my best to collect my things between trips to the toilet.
I made sure I knew where the washroom was when I sat down for breakfast (retch). I couldn’t even keep down water, which I needed badly (retch). Everything was hazy (retch). I quietly commented I would like to see a doctor before I get jammed into a van with six other guys. I showed my travel insurance card and Micah and Ben did the calling (Aren’t they awesome?). I answered the questions they asked and we were soon on our way to a clinic.
At the clinic there was some more paper work and faxing to be done regarding my insurance, so I was stuck in the waiting room, taking up three chairs, and keeping the washroom in sight.
(retch) (retch) (re— oops) Yeah, I crapped myself. Could this day get any worse? I apparently had a case of the runs. Cleaning up as best I could, walked back into the waiting room and soon heard my name called. I lay down on the bed (if you could call it that) and waited for the nurse’s return (retch). Three blood pressure tests (retch). and the doctor arrives! He does all the doctor stuff, talking the entire time about bands (knowing I was with After Edmund) and how some make it and some don’t. I was confused. He said something about an IV and an anti-nausea shot. I was relieved. I fell asleep from pure exhaustion.
The nurse stabbed me twice to get the IV in me (mumbling “aw… shoot” after the first one. Real encouraging, ma’am). I passed out. She came back and said she had to give me the anti-nausea in the butt. I quietly unbuckled my belt and warned her of my crapping incident in the washroom earlier. She laughed, said she’d seen worse and gave me the shot.
Suddenly, bang! Pain! Agony! Deliverance! The Lord himself I think showed himself for a split second. For the amount that anti-nausea medicine burned, the nurse may well have swung an 16-pound sledge hammer at my right butt cheek. I was wide awake for a good minute and a half, and then was soon back asleep on my left side.
Soon the whole adventure was over, although not without retching one last time for good measure (clearly the pain-in-the-ass medicine didn’t fully satisfy my queasiness). Feeling a little less dry, and a little more exhausted I was directed by the guys to a bench seat in the van, where I was quarantined for the trip home. I was too out-of-mind to hear what the doctor said I had, nor really cared. I think it was something like food poisoning/stomach flu with a side of dehydration. Lovely mix, really. Absolutely exhilarating.
(I’m proud to say I never missed a toilet throughout the whole ordeal. Though, one of the toilet seat may or may not have been down)
So, I’m back now, all in one piece and felling quite better. I think I slept the entire trip home, which I probably needed. The band house hasn’t changed much. Everything is green and overgrown; outside looks pretty bad too.
We’re back on the road Thursday! Check out After Edmund’s Facebook event page to see the next shows! I’ll catch y’all later.
(Unfortunately, Sezah, I was not counting so I don’t technically know if I threw up more than 11 times, but If I did the math I think it was probably between 14-18, so yeah.)