Hybris

Yesterday I fell victim to myself (once again). I overestimated my stomach's ability. I thought refrigeration was for wusses.

I got food poisoning. And it's no joke.

The worse part is is that I don't even know which of my foolish choices caused me to fall... Wait a minute, that definitely wasn't the worst part. Forget I said that. The worst part was either rolling around on the bed feeling like my body was going to rip in half and just wishing it would get it over with already! Or, squatting over the wastepaper basket for who knows how long while Tom waited for me in bed, probably reflecting on how he told me not to save that piece of steak when I was deep into "waste not want not" the other night.

He probably wasn't reflecting on that, really, but that's what I thought about as I miserably crouched there alone. I also thought about the time when I thought the that the H1N1 vaccine was for wusses...

While we're on the subject of dangerous self-confidence I'll tell you a little of what happened to Tom recently. Well, really, it's just this: he worked until he literally couldn't work anymore, and then he fell down.

I thought, for a while, that this was bound to happen. And then I thought, "Huh. Maybe he's a robot."

But, no, finally his flesh and blood gave out, and he passed out and hit a number of things on his way down. And then when he came to he couldn't move for a half an hour. Apparently it was shock. Probably the exhaustion didn't help.

He's still shaken up. He's lost that confidence he had in his body and he's still in pain from falling over six feet into who-knows-what face-first. His muscles are damaged and he can't laugh without gripping pain. He's going to have a scar on his perfect face, like a soap opera villain. I'm just so glad it wasn't a car crash.

He's still working. He didn't get a leave of absence. No, he just got a few hours sleep (at the warehouse, I guess) and a trip to the hospital.

I've gone into denial about his job after all this time, but he really is working too hard. And he's beating himself up a little for no longer being on the top of his game.

Oh, boy

And then he had to take care of me: make me ginger tea (twice) and get out of bed to get me the saltine crackers.

Sorry, Charlie. I thought I was stronger than that.

You know how it goes.