Mary Panza

I bragged all winter to friends, clients, 3b and basically anyone who would stand still and listen: I don’t get sick. For the most part, that is true. I don’t usually get colds. I can’t remember the last time I had one. I get migraines which are mostly related to the weather and my sinuses. Well, karma sharpened her teeth this week and bit me in the ass HARD. I got the stomach bug.

My intestines began singing Sunday night. They woke up 3b from a sound sleep. I canceled clients, which I never do. I couldn’t get comfortable. I was sweating. I was puking, and I was pooping. I still don’t feel right. I find out the next day that my sister had it the day before. She got it from my niece and her boyfriend. My great niece (the baby) had it. Then my ex called me to tell me that my girl had it. It was a diet of nothing but warm soda, toast and prayer. Let me just say the last thing I had to eat was a hot dog on Sunday around 4:30. I can say with absolute certainty that I will NEVER eat a hot dog again. It was the thing that kept coming back for a visit in my throat. The whole hot dog thing is nothing compared to some of the things I stopped eating after getting sick on them. I don’t drink grapefruit juice because a wild night of greyhound’s. That’s a drink. I don’t drink tequila straight anymore because of one night at the now defunct Terminal Tavern. A couple of mooks were saying that South Troy girls were all talk and the next line out of my fat mouth was, “Line em’ up douche bag.” I remember very little of the rest of that night expect that I won. If you call waking up to an 86 degree day in a studio apartment with no air conditioning and the hangover of your life winning, then yeah. I did shut those two guys up. I guess a win is a win, no matter how painful.

While I had this bug I started to miss my mother. She was always at her best when I was sick. I am guessing because I would stop talking or being a wise ass to her. I cried because I wanted a hug or someone one to punch me in the gut and make this stop. I hate being sick. If I am going to be on the couch all day doing nothing, I want the choice to be mine. I cried because I couldn’t go to work and I was losing money. I cried because being an adult is lousy. I mainly cried because I felt out of control and was afraid that I was going to poop myself. It was a bitter week of realizations. I gave this awful virus to 3b. Like I said, it had been a bitter week.