Friday night was NOT a good night.
I was working with a friend of mine, we were having a fantastic time, laughing, laughing, making fun of people, whatever...it was fantastic. She had cookies chocolate covered strawberries, I couldn't have been happier.
As we began to land, I felt my stomach go "hey man, I don't like this..."
not sure whate he didn't like....either it was the giant burrito I had eaten for dinner...was it the strawberries?? Or was it the cookie I had eaten that had been dropped on the floor? (5 second rule!)
Whatever it was, that night was awful. Beginning at 1am, I woke up every hour to try to "purge" myself of whatever it was that was causing the "disagreement" in my stomach. After the second time, I was yelling at my stomach "hey man! its all gone! what are you so PEEVED about???"
Morning came, I stopped the upchucking, and now I had a decision. To call in sick, or not.
I HATE calling in sick. I feel like everytime I do it, they don't believe me. They never ask whats wrong, they never question you, but sometimes you can hear it in their voices....it was the last day of a 3 day trip, I felt like I could suck it up and make it happen.
As we waited for our flight to arrive that afternoon, my crew, finding out that I had called in twice in 2 1/2 years giving me a plethora of sick days available, basically forced me to call in. They convinced me to call in for the rest of the day and for the three day trip afterward. "you need to take care of yourself!" she said.
I worked one leg to baltimore, which is a crew base so it would be easier to get someone to replace me, and luckily we were scheduled to work baltimore to denver anyways, so I just stayed on, managed to score an entire row to myself in the back (with only 13 empty seats on the plane, it was quite a feat. Ann told everyone I had the bird flu) I slept most of the 4 hours.
As I was sitting in the back row, munching on orange juice and dried fruit, Margaret, the other lady I was working with, saw me and yelled at me.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? NONONONONO...GINGER ALE AND CRACKERS..HERE...GIVE ME THAT!!! THAT STUFFS GONNA KILL YOU!!!"
So now, here I sit, trying to shake this bug, and being taunted by the outdoors. I feel OK, but not well enough to do anything active...and it's killing me. I don't think I've spent an evening at home in over a month. I just want some coffee, but I know it will destroy my stomach...