fifteen years

We put the movie on pause. We had already seen it, after all. But Ryan hadn't, and he was obviously enjoying it. I could tell by the way he laughed out loud at the irreverent humor of Shrek 3. Very much Ryan's type of humor. So, we paused it when he had to get up to go to the bathroom. After about 10 minutes, I decided that I had time to go to the bathroom myself. When I came back, Ryan still wasn't back. It was getting late, and we had to go to church in the morning, so I told Krista to go ahead and start the movie. Ryan would just have to miss some of it.

Gene became concerned, and asked if Ryan was okay. I assured him that he was fine. But Gene said he thought it sounded like Ryan was throwing up. "No," I said, "he's fine, leave him alone." But then I heard it. He was definitely throwing up--big time! All I could think of was how much Ryan HATES to throw up. It has been his biggest fear for many years. Now, I know that nobody likes to throw up. But Ryan, REALLY, REALLY HATES to throw up.

And, boy, was he throwing up! It went on and on and on. I got a wet washcloth and a cup of water and took it to him. I knocked on the bathroom door. "Ryan, I have a wet washcloth and some water for you." Slowly the door opens. He looks so pathetic. "Fif-teen years," he moans. "I went fif-teen years without throwing up." He takes the washcloth and places it over his face and just holds it there for several seconds. Through the washcloth he says it again, only this time a little quieter, "fif-teeeeen years."

We thought it was an allergic reaction to some amoxicillin he had been taking for some dental work he was going to have done on Monday. He stopped taking the medicine, but he stayed the night on my couch. I found out the next morning that he had thrown up several more times during the night. He was living his worst nightmare. There was nothing I could do.

He stayed the next day and night, but felt better by Monday and he went home.

Early Tuesday morning, Leah knocked on my bedroom door and came in. "Mom, I threw up again."

"What do you mean, again?"

"Well, I threw up about two hours ago, too." I felt really bad, because I hadn't heard either time. She said, "I don't know what to do, because Dad always takes care of me when I throw up."

"What do you mean, you don't know what to do?"

"You know, Dad has always been home and he usually takes a couple of days off of work when I throw up."

"What?!!! No he doesn't."

"Well, he always brings me a wet washcloth and a cup of water when I'm throwing up."

"I'm sorry I didn't know you were throwing up. I would have done that for you. Do you want me to get that for you now?"

"No, I already got it myself."

I felt SOOOO bad.

But where in the world did she come up with the memory that Gene had usually taken days off from work????? It was kinda cute how she wanted him, though. And, when I told him about it, he was touched, and he took really good care of her the next time she threw up.

She's fine now. But we're hoping and praying that nobody else gets sick!