Puke makes me want to barf

I planned on coming here today to tell you that I did such a great job at yesterday's mammogram that they've invited me to come back tomorrow to do it again. I was going to tell you that 98% of me is totally cool and unaffected and only 2% of me is trying to envision myself with one boob and no hair. Yep, that was going to be today's post...until the puke hit the fan, or more accurately, the street.

I was driving to work from Kyle Lacy's SMASH course on social media when I started to get that irritating tickle in the back of my throat. I coughed a few times, hard, and thought it was over. But it came back worse, feeling like I had a popcorn kernel stuck in my swallower. I coughed again and started to gag. So instead of coughing, I just kept making that ccchmmm...ccchmmm... clearing my throat sound, hoping it would work.

No luck. Soon I was really coughing and gagging and coughing and driving down the highway all at the same time. Just as I was pulling getting off at the exit, I threw up a little bit in my mouth and forced myself to swallow it back down. Disgusting, I know, but true.

Only about 4 blocks from work, I was putting my best Lamaze breathing to work, trying to make it to the parking lot where I could get one of the bottles of water that I knew was in my trunk. But my gut had other plans. Before I knew it, I could feel the chuck coming up again and this time it was too much to force back down.

So I did the only thing I could -- I rolled down the window, hung my head out like a dog and threw up all the way down Shelby Street, driving left of center in the process (you try driving with your barfing head hanging out the window!), hoping I wasn't going to hit any pedestrians or bike riders.

Now, let me tell you. I do NOT handle barf very well. When one of the kids gets sick, I deal with the kid; Mike deals with the puke. But here I was in the parking lot at work, the regurgitated remnants of bagel with a shmear all over my shirt, running down the inside of the driver's side door and heavily streaked across the side of the car. There was no one there to handle it, except me -- although I did think for a minute whether this task might fall into the job duties of a graduate assistant.

So, I peeled off the denim shirt that I had on over a long-sleeved t-shirt and began to use it to wipe up the inside of the car. When I was finished, I put it in the back seat of the car. I contemplated throwing the shirt away, but I really like that shirt!

I called our administrative assistant to tell her I was in the parking lot cleaning up myself and the car and I'd be in in just a few minutes. At this point, I planned to go on into the office still. That's until I started throwing up again with Stephanie still on the phone. Sorry, Stephanie. I did have the courtesy to hang up. When I called her back, I said on second thought I'm going home.

I had to drive the 30 minutes home with the windows cracked to air out the car, which made for a cold ride considering it was only 43 degrees. It's a good thing I wasn't driving topless! And before I went home I stopped at the car wash. Ordinarily, I hate spending money on car washes. But seeing as I had bile and vomitus clinging to the side of my car, it seemed like money well spent.

So now I am home, tired from my adventure, a bit queasy in the stomach still and telling my tale here. Aren't you glad I don't have pictures to include?!