And sometimes death. This is not just an upset tummy.
I was attacked by the Norovirus 2 years ago on a Friday night, in mid January. Fortunately I was at home when it struck. The last time I puked was 1986. My daughter and I both came down with a mild diarrhea/vomiting thing. Mild compared to the vicious Norovirus. I puked one other time as an adult, but that was alcohol related. I hate throwing up even though I know I will feel better after. I have lain awake for hours fighting the urge.
When the Norovirus hit me I was at home, in bed and had been asleep for about an hour. I awoke with my guts in an uproar. I knew instinctively that I wasn't going to ride this one out. I got up and went into the bathroom. I wasn't quite sure which end was going to let loose, so I parked myself on the toilet with a small, round, hard plastic wastebasket between my legs. Our toilet is in a small room, separate from the bathroom. Its about 3" x 5½", just enough room for the toilet and to accommodate the door swing.
I sat there for a few seconds and then it hit. The gut wrenching started deep inside of me and I yakked into the wastebasket. Instantly I felt better. More than just better! I was totally relaxed and felt as if I were floating on an air mattress on a calm lake. I was transfixed by a vision of oak wood grain. I could clearly see every wave, swirl, and color variance in the wood. Then I heard my wife call, asking if I was alright. My automatic response was: "I'm fine." I'd probably use that line even if I was having a heart attack. The truth was, I was more than just fine. I was feeling wonderful. Then I realized the oak wood grain I was so fascinated with was the baseboard in the bathroom. I was laying on the floor inches away from the baseboard.
I recalled why I was in the bathroom. I was sick. I managed to get back up on the toilet. The wastebasket was still upright. I peered into it expecting to see my spleen or some other semi-vital internal organ. Nothing but a small amount of vomit. Then it hit me again, but not nearly as severe as the first bout. What it lacked in violence was made up for in volume.
When that wave passed I felt better and pushed the wastebasket aside. As I stood up I noticed a smear of fresh blood on the front, inside edge of the toilet seat. Strange. Then I saw blood on the top side of my penis. Not good. I was confused. I opened the drawer that contained our first aid stuff. Bandages and adhesive tape didn't seem appealing. Then I saw a box of individually wrapped, small alcohol prep wipes. I tore one open figuring I'd clean my wound and assess the damage. I was still a bit dazed so there was a slight delay from the time the alcohol contacted my wound and the pain registered in my brain. I screamed.
That got my wife out of bed and into the bathroom. There I stood. My ruined penis in one hand and an alcohol wipe in the other. When I quit screaming we were able to piece together the events of the past few minutes. I was sitting on the toilet when I puked. I then fainted and pitched forward. My penis scraped against the inside edge of the toilet seat and then against the rim of the wastebasket that was between my legs as I slowly slid to the floor. This theory was confirmed the next day by the bruise on my lower abdomen.
My wife got me back to bed and put a different wastebasket next to the bed. I fell asleep for a short time until I awoke, racked by another bout of gut wrenching nausea. I immediately grabbed the wastebasket and puked. Once again I felt extremely relaxed and wonderful until my wife nudged me and told me to sit up. I fainted again. This time I just fell back onto the bed. I puked some more, got cleaned up and fell back asleep.
Later that night it hit my wife. She was up vomiting but never fainted. She's a real trooper! We were both sick and wiped out all the next day. We slept and drank warm Gatorade and ginger ale. By about 6:00 p.m. I made some Lipton chicken noodle soup and we kept that down. On Sunday we were able to eat some scrambled eggs and dry toast. By Monday we had pretty much recovered but I had a scab on my penis where a few layers of skin got scraped off.
I'm in good health and this Norovirus nearly killed me. I can see where an elderly person or someone with a heart condition could die from this. I'm thankful I wasn't out on the road living in my tuna can when I got sick.
