So I got it too. Yes, I am talking about the infamous "tummy bug." But don't worry, I was sure to make a dramatic presentation of it. You know me. So here's how it went down:
I woke up Sunday morning feeling a little, well, uneasy. You know how it is. Not hungry, not full, not...good. Since my recent bout with doctor visits, I am currently taking 1298349872348971298375 different medicines, so whether I am hungry or not, I have to eat. That many meds will wreck an empty stomach. But I was also very thirsty. I asked my husband to drive through Micky D's for a......large water.
RED FLAG PEOPLE!
And no, I am not talking about the fact that they actually charged us 11 cents for water. I am talking about how crazy it is for me to ask for water. I will drink off-brand lemon/lime before I will drink water. But alas, my husband wasn't alerted to the fact that this was a dire situation, so he sat by after worship practice as I ate both halves of a giant cinnamon bagel. Ohhhh. Yes.
Needless to say, I felt worse. I laid down as we waited for Band Bible Fellowship to start, and incidentally slept through the entire thing. At the time I was okay with that, but looking back my cheeks are definitely red. But not as red as they were about to be as this story unfolds.
I woke up just in time for us to join hands and begin praying. At the end of said prayer, we were to start the 10:00 service with joyful Christmas caroling. Just as the prayer started, however, my mouth got cold and began to water...the dreaded sign that you are about to release whatever it is you intended to stay inside you.
I let go from the joining of hands. I rushed through the door of Pastor James' office. I raced past the older gentlemen copying the sermon onto dvds. I had almost made it. Into the Worship Office....and...the first surge came up. But I was hopeful! I covered my mouth with my hand and kept running. I rounded the corner and was about to open the bathroom door.....when....two more surges gripped me and I projectile vomited all over the door and the floor in front of the door. Ohhhhh.
I immediately began apologizing, assuming that seeing as how it was less that 10 minutes before the service started, that SOMEONE had witnessed this catastrophic accident. I ran into the bathroom and finished my episode in the first available toilet. From behind me an unknown kind stranger handed me wet paper towels to wipe away the left over....particles. (I also used them to blow out the chunks still lingering in my nasal cavity.) Come to find out, the unknown stranger was actually Mrs. Watkins. Bless her. She also covered the atrocity in front of the door and ushered all needy patrons to another restroom. She's an angel.
Then came the horrible moment in which I had to show my face to the curious crowd outside the bathroom. Oh the shame! (There wasn't anyone out there. But I imagined there were hundreds.)
Needless to say, I did not appear on stage ready to usher the churchgoers into worship. I called my Daddy. He came to get me. Puke covered scarf and all. As we were leaving, I saw the janitor cleaning MY vomit off of the Men's room door. At least I was thorough.
I want to issue a formal apology to all those patient women who were unable to ease their urgency, or touch up their makeup that fateful morning. I accept full responsibility for the..uhem, mess. And I would like to issue a formal "thank you" to Mrs. Watkins. That was not what you thought you'd be doing when you dressed for church that morning, was it? Bless your precious heart!
Seriously though, I was assured many times that we all go through this. Fortunately for most, though, they are 7 years old when it happens.