I'm not sure why I have this need to express upon you how truly terrible things were last week.
It's not something I can fully explain, this desire to share. It's probably because I'm one of those people - you know, the ones who, when they're miserable, want you to roll around in the dread misery with them.
I mean, I wouldn't deliberately sneeze on you if I had a cold. OK, I can think of a couple people - Palin comes to mind - who I might do that to. But not people in general.
So, anyway, I'm going to make an appointment to make sure I don't have some kind of parasite. Because my stomach is still swirly. And it could just be post-travel icks. Or it could be some kind of creepy inside-eater. Who knows.
All I know is, the diarrhea I had in Turkey wasn't the worst I've ever had, but it was the vilest. By far.
This is how it began.
I woke up one morning and my body and head were all hurty, and I winced upstairs to the breakfast on the terrace. The hot tea and bread felt good going down.
And then suddenly as we finished, I was struck with that "this is going to get veryvery ugly veryvery fast" feeling. We headed down and I begged Nick to take a stroll or hang out in the lobby.
And then all Hell broke loose. I must tell you that I was shocked by my own ability to produce such vileness.
Honestly. I have had a lot of diarrhea in a lot of countries. And this was the stinkiest by far. By. Far.
There are many things to which I could liken it, but it's not like there's anyone out there who doesn't have some idea what super-stinky poo is like. Now multiply that by 75 thousand.
We were in a clean, perfectly situated, but basic B and B. The kind where you stick the key in the wall to activate the lights. And. There's no fan. There were, however, holes near the bottom of the door. For ventilation.
Of course, I immediately realized how terrible A Situation this was. But had no choice but to go get Nick - who had no key and no cash - from downstairs.
Now, if I'd known it would go on and on, I probably would've left him in the lobby for the duration. But he was too big to sleep on their couch anyway. I suppose I could've thrown some cash out the window at him.
I warned him about The Situation immediately, and reiterated as we walked up the stairs. As soon as we hit the landing, he knew exactly what I was talking about. And that I'd not exaggerated.
He staggered a little.
"Holy mother of all that is good and pure!"
Was not really what he said.
Actually it was a lot rougher than that and maybe included a question about what might have died in my intestines.
He then promptly propped open the room door and the balcony door. Thus sweeping the smell out. It probably landed with a thud on the terrace of the ice cream parlor below.
Over the course of the next couple days, he got me Powerade (official sponsor of Turkey's national football league! or something like that). And Fanta orange, which I love. And chickpeas, which the hotel guy said would stanch the flow.
And then, worrying that I'd get dehydrated, he headed to a pharmacy. Where they gave him some stop-you-up pills. Which he tried to foist on me.
He accused me of being a bad patient. When all he was trying to do was help. And did I want to wind up in the hospital?
I was on the verge of saying, "Do you know how much diarrhea I've had in my life? I'm practically the Queen of Diarrhea!"
But then, much like the terrible fart on the plane, I realized how long that title would probably haunt me. And so instead I said that I wasn't trying to be difficult, but from all my growing up overseas and Peace Corps training, I knew that if something was trying to get out of your body at that velocity, you really want it out.
And then he Googled diarrhea and said that actually, I was right.
I didn't smugly say, "I know." Because really, who wants to be smug about their diarrhea knowledge, while reclining limply, sweating profusely, trying to sip Fanta and eat dried chickpeas?
And I promise, that's all I'm writing about poo for the month. The rest is going to be puppies and unicorns and princess dresses and flowers and friends and cake!
Hugs (antibacterially handwashed hugs) to all!