MatthewMeyer.net Blog

I have painting class on Thursday mornings, so after finishing my burrito, I grabbed my pallete, canvas, and paints and headed off to class. Halway through class I began to get awful awful stomach cramps. Debilitating cramps. I was afraid I had a nuclear poo coming on, so I quickly put my stuff down and went to the studio's bathroom. Nothing. Nothing at first... then as I was getting ready to shrug it all off as Ghost Poop, the mother of all gastric cramps hit me. If I wasn't so sure I was about the paint the walls with breakfast I would have guessed that a CO2 cartridge had just exploded in my small intestine.

At that point, I knew something was going to come out. Something had to come out, or a hole would have ripped through my abdomen. However, it was anybody's guess which end would blow first, so there I sat on the toilet, resting my head in the wastebasket which I had pulled over from under the sink. I sat there and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

It was horrible. Just horrible. I wanted to call out in pain, but that would be impossible to explain to the deathly-quiet studio just beyond the restroom door. So I hoped that whatever was going to happen could happen quickly, and quietly.

Soon I gave up that hope, and just wanted something to happen. Anything. I began to throw up (into the toilet, phew!). I lost count, but it was the painful kind that just gets worse, not the relieving kind. Finally I thought I was done, so I went outside and attempted to continue painting, hoping I could finish the class. Just then, the worst thing happened: the teacher called on me for a portfolio review.

For those of you who don't know Mr. Johnson, he is a great guy, but he really has the tendency to ramble in situations like this. I remember feeling the cramps coming back, feeling the excessive saliva building up in my mouth as my tongue slid backwards to avoid the torrent that wanted to boil up from my Taxco-tainted stomach.

Just in time he let me go. I made my way to the bathroom again as quickly as possible, without obviously running -- you know the little tip-toe dance you do when you're trying to get to the bathroom discreetly. I made it there and prepared once again for the either-end-eruption. The pain was so great that I seriously did not know what was going on. I was sweating like a pig from the pain and it felt like my temperature shot up to 106 degrees. Then the feeling subsided again. I realized that I needed to get home, because this wasn't going to go away.

I left the bathroom and started to make my way to my things to gather them up. But the buffalo in my stomach started to dance again and forced me to retreat back into my cave. There I sat, dizzy, wishing to throw up or crap or anything that could make me feel better, but nothing happened. It was like every nerve was so tied up with pain that no other brain signals could be recieved.

Finally, after one last vomit, I got out of there and grabbed my things as fast as I could, and went home once again as quickly and discreetly as possible. By the time I got to my door I could feel it coming back; the bad-tasting saliva, the curling of my tongue, the blurring vision. I fumbled with my keys, got inside, threw my stuff on the floor in my room and ran into the bathroom, sweating so much that I just stripped naked and waited for whatever was going to happen. I wanted to cry from the pain, but there was no water left in my body from the sweat and vomit.

That's when I knew that I wouldn't get anything done that I had planned to do today, which sets me back quite a bit, as Thursday is my big work day. I wanted to go to the grocery store so I wouldnt have to eat the rest of my Taxco burritos, but I wasn't going anywhere.

The entire afternoon was a blur, rotating from my bed to the bathroom in and out of consciousness.

Around 6 I felt well enough to get just a bit of groceries. I've changed my diet... it will be more expensive to buy fresh fruits and vegetables than it was to buy frozen breaded shit, but I just can't go through that again.

I think I still have a fever as I write this... and please, PLEASE, follow my advice to never ever spend less than 50 cents on food. It's just not worth it. You really do get what you pay for.