Well, the jinx is comin’ to roost

Peanut is being tremendously sweet lately. And willingly playing by himself. And helping around the house and being polite. And sleeping.

Which is probably why I’ve been unbearably nauseated for three weeks. If I’m awake, I want to puke. I give in more and more frequently, but even after succumbing, the need is still there, every waking second of every day. If I wake at night, it takes three seconds before I register, “Oh, crap, again?”

So, clearly I have a stomach ulcer or an inner ear cyst. Maybe it’s a tumor. I’m only four weeks late, so it couldn’t be THAT. It can’t be THAT. I have to be really honest, I don’t want it to be THAT. See that paragraph above, where P is being reasonable and semi-self-sufficient? So it can’t be THAT. I can’t have made it this to far to have it be THAT. I finished and submitted a novel. I’m getting client work. I can’t be in the black hole for another three years.

So I’m opening up a plea for nausea advice. The regular stuff doesn’t work. Empty stomach, full stomach, doesn’t matter. Please don’t say “just don’t let yourself get too hungry” or I’ll throw up. The “little bites of cracker all day” wind up tossed on my neighbors lawn when we go for a walk. Fresh air is clearly not the answer, for I haven’t been on a walk or run without making an impromptu pitstop.

For a couple of weeks, nothing but the sugar from my Glee gum stayed down before 11am, and anything before 1pm was dicey. Now it’s the reverse. Fruit and cereal might stay down in the morning, but after nap all bets are off. Back to the Glee. At no time does the desire to self-remove my stomach with a rusty grapefruit spoon go away.

Ginger (fresh or candied or tea or Ginger People candy) makes me puke. Sour juices make me puke. Tea makes me puke. Water makes me puke. Miso soup only stays down for a little while. Salt and vinegar chips help a bit but only at dinner. Lemon lollipops help a bit. Motion sickness bands may or may not help, but I wear them for at least 12 hours every day. just in case. A voodoo doll of Spouse is not helping anything. Bargaining with all manner of deity seems to have no effect. Further proof that other peoples’ gods care more about football than about my being able to take care of my kid.

So what to do? Help out a lady who has some sort of gall bladder disorder or inner ear tumor. Because clearly it’s not THAT. Back three years ago when it was THAT I subsisted on almonds and oranges and only wanted to puke all day and night. I didn’t actually void several times a day. Plus, back then I was tired. Now I’m not tired. Except for the whole haven’t slept much in three years thing.

I’m seeing a doctor tomorrow because clearly it’s some sort of intestinal cancer. I think I’m seeing an oncologist. Or something that sounds like oncologist. I don’t remember. I made the appointment a couple of weeks ago and they said I could wait two weeks because I have, like, nine seven months to live.