…is what I heard coming from the bedroom at 2AM this morning.
Now, my actual response may or may not have been different from what was running through my mind at the time.
Why is it that people ask that question when the gut wrenching, hacking, convulsing sounds that come from the human body during the hurling event would surely make the situation obvious? Every single person I’ve ever known asks this question at those times when it’s evident that things are quite the contrary.
When working in the ER a long time ago, I remember a doctor asking a patient “Are you okay?”
This patient was covered in blood, missing a few non-essential body parts, eyes rolling around in his head teetering on the edge of consciousness. Why in God’s name would you ask this person if they are okay?
Back to my story…
“Yes, sugar pie, I’m fine. I just thought I’d see about redecorating the bathroom. It looks quite lovely with bright orange chunks splattered in random patterns all over the walls, floor, sink, toilet, and the puddle of pee I’m standing in sort of completes the whole look. No worries honey, I’m fine.”
Before I could manage to grunt out “uh huh” while trying to actually breathe between hurls, I heard the deep resonating sounds of snoring coming from the bedroom.
Guess he figured I was alright.
And in the harsh reality of the light of day, I probably am relieved that he continued sleeping. What wife wants to be found standing in a puddle of her own bodily fluids with the contents of her stomach splattered ceiling to floor, mascara running down the cheeks… just a total wreck? Not me.
Sleep on studmuffin, sleep on.
*I love this big hunk of man… my slab of beef. I love him dearly and am so grateful that he woke up to ask me if I was okay. But I’m guessing he didn’t really want to know because the whole situation was pretty gross. But… he woke up to make sure I wasn’t dying or in need of a ride to the local hospital. I love him for that