Yes, I'm still alive, although it was a near thing for a while, or at least it felt like a near thing. Last Sunday night I became violently sick and blogging's been the last thing on my mind ever since.
I am not, as you might have guessed by now, at EPICon. :( I went to the doctor on Wednesday (which tells you just how bad it was -- it takes a lot of nausea etc. to get me into a doctor's office, since they generally tell you to drink clear liquids, get lots of rest, maybe take something Pepto Bismolish, and wait it out, sending you home with a short list of bland foods you can eat once you can eat anything at all, and in what order to add in more complex kinds of things, none of which advice I need, nor have for many years, thanks anyway) and since it'd been going on for three days at that point, my doctor actually gave me some pills along with the above-mentioned advice. He also gave me a note saying I shouldn't travel for a week, with which we can collect on the travel insurance my husband presciently took out on this trip however many weeks ago when he booked my plane tickets. We're still out a "fee" of about $150, but the tickets were like $280, so it was worth taking my queasy stomach on two very short cab rides, I suppose. Oh, and the diagnosis is gastritis, which seems to mean just "upset stomach." [bemused smile]
Anyway, I've been mostly sleeping and was living on Gatorade and the aforementioned Pepto Bismol for several days straight. I tried dry toast on Tuesday and that didn't work. After getting home from the doctor's office on Wednesday I tried plain rice, and that stayed down, yay. I've since tried the toast again, plus some applesauce and a couple of bananas, and everything seems to be processing well. I took my life in my hands last night and put some actual butter on my toast, and nothing untoward occurred during the night, so I'm feeling quite optimistic at this point.
When not immediately concerned with matters digestive, and not asleep, I mainly lay there thinking about whatever crossed my mind. Am I the only writer who lies around while sick thinking about fictional scenarios where the protagonist is deathly ill? Imagining how to describe all the feelings and fears, each visceral detail, all the completely reframed points of view one gains while sick and weak and lightheaded and so completely miserable that one might actually welcome, say, a violent home invader and think of ways of provoking same into actually opening fire and putting one out of one's misery...?
We'll have to see if any of the coming year's characters end up at death's door. Most likely not :D although I'll admit to still feeling tempted by the sheer vividness of the perceptions, and the sharpness of focus one gains when one's entire sensory existence is concentrated in just a few cubic inches....
Anyway, I'm grossly behind again so I beg forgiveness in advance if I end up just skipping a few things, or if I still sound a bit loopy when commenting. [cough]