For some reason I get sick right before every big move we have ever made. I say that like it's not really obvious that it's the insane stress and lack of sleep that makes my immune system run away screaming.
When we moved to San Diego from NY about 4 years ago I got the worst flu maybe two days before. I was so sick I basically lay around on our futon trying not to die. I was still sick when we started the 5 day drive and slept through most of the South. I remember New Orleans, thankfully. I also remember the 2 days through Texas less thankfully. Lots of tumbleweed, rocks, and serious state pride there. And then we were west coasters and that was rad. When we moved up to San Francisco I didn't get sick, but that was like an 8hr drive so I don't count it as a "big" move. The cats didn't pee themselves so it was just a solid win.
And now, in 5 days, we are moving to Germany. I'm not sure about the mileage, it might technically be less than the 3k we moved to get here. It is, however, 9 hours into THE FUTURE. Also, German. Which I don't speak. So. That's a thing. That's happening. In 5 days.
Which of course means that I got sick. This time with a cold which is generally your standard mucusfest. A few hot showers, some lying around sleeping, a bit of cold medicine, you get the drill.
But because I am incapable of ever having anything not be totally humiliating, things had to get weird. It didn't start off that way. Basically, yesterday I decided to take the previously mentioned hot shower. I figured it would help clear out my head. Well. It did. Kind of.
You see, about five minutes into the shower I got extremely dizzy. I thought, okay, this is different. It'll subside. Not so much. Everything spun, and continued to spin, and I tried to stay upright but it was really difficult to tell what direction that actually was. And then I fainted.
No, seriously. I fainted. Like some swoony girl in a novel. Only, you know, minus the corset and flowing hair and grace. More like naked in the shower with a thud.
Somehow I managed to not fall on any of the myriad bottles that seem to sprout like mushrooms in every bathroom I occupy. Which is good because I don't think being impaled on shampoo would've improved the experience. I wasn't out for long, but it was a distinct faint.
My husband called out "Are you okay?" and I said "No." He came in and opened the stall to find me, sprawled, water still pouring down. I looked up with a face apparently drained of color and said "I think I'm going to..."and then I did. Throw up, obviously. While naked and plunked down on the floor of the shower with my husband worried about me.
Always with the dignity. That's me.
He helped me up. Got me a towel. I felt a LOT better, though obviously just ever so slightly embarrassed. My color came back. I got dressed and lay down. He went out and got me ginger ale and bread for toast. Gave me a kiss and a hug. Later, we watched movies and napped.
That, my friends, is love. And it's why I'm not really worried about moving to Germany, because I'll be with Chris, and a guy who doesn't bat an eye when you yak on yourself while naked in the shower (not to mention all the assorted humiliations of my kidney stone episode earlier this year) is the kind of person worth moving anywhere with. And it'll be okay because we'll be together and all that other sappy stuff. And even if it isn't, we'll figure it out. Because that's what we do.