How my husband almost let me die of vertigo.

I’ve been battling some sinus issues for about, oh I don’t know, two weeks or so. If anyone had told me about the gnats and the overwhelming amount of pollen in Georgia, I probably would not have moved here. So forward to Saturday, late morning. I’ve just worked night shift and am trying to sleep but I’m worried. Worried because my husband has to take four children with him to pick up 5 cases of Girl Scout Cookies. I hear him yelling at the kids and I peek from under the covers. It’s 10:45 am. I think, ok, I’ll get up and he can run quick, then he doesn’t have to take them all with him. {Despite the fact that I always have to take them all with me}. So I get up and tell him to at least leave the baby. He says no, so I figure, to hell with you…and I go back to bed. Fast forward about 30 minutes later {now mind you, I have to work another 12 hour shift tonight} the door bell is ringing. Thinking it’s him, forgetting something, I answer it. Not husband, Fedex guy. Sign the electronic box, throw package on the table and head back to bedroom.
Oh wait, what the hell?? What the hell??? The room is beginning to spin and spin and spin. By the time I get onto the bed, I’ve been somehow transported to the playground and someone has placed me on that big metal spinning ride. I get my head on the pillow and when I open my eyes, my curtains are circling in front of me, spinning. OMG I am going to throw up. OMG. Slowly, slowly, the spinning stops. So I lay there. I can’t move my head above the plane its in. No one is home. I know if I move again, I am sure to vomit on myself. So I lay there.
About 20 minutes later I hear his car pull up, I hear the kids bounding into the house. Thank God. So I try to turn over but this ilicits another wave of nausea and horrendous spinning. I grasp the edge of my mattress and consider putting my leg down onto the floor to try and stop it. (honestly, do you remember someone telling you that when you were really drunk after a night a the bar and the bed was spinning to put your foot down on the floor and it would stop it…lol). Then I begin to yell.

Me: Frazier! Frazzzzziiiiieeer!
No answer. I hear the tv…loud.
Me: Frazier!!!! Frazier!!!!
Still no answer. Are you kidding me?
Me: Jacob! Jacob!!!
Nope, no answer either. I could have been dying here and no one hears me.
Me: Madison??? Madi!!!
Like she’s gonna answer. She’s 2.

Me: Frrraaaaazzzzziiiiieeer!

Finally, as I am on the brink of death, he comes in.
Him: What honey?
I grab his hand in a death grip.

Me: WTF? Do you not hear me yelling??

Him: The tv was loud. What’s wrong?

Me:  Great.  I could be dead in here and no one would know,

Him:  Yeh, I wouldn’t have found you until I checked why you weren’t up for work.
Me: I have goddamned vertigo and I’m going to throw up all over myself. I have to blow my nose. Go get me some crackers and something to puke in.
Him: Ok, can I have my hand back?
Me: Yes, and hurry up.
He returns with some small ass plastic container.

Me: What the hell is that gonna do? Get me the garbage can.
So, doofus take the bag out of the garbage can in the bathroom and just leaves it on the floor. (where I retrieve it like 5 hours later)
Me: You have to get go me some medicine for motion sickness. Get some Dramamine.
Him: Ok, I’ll put Madi to bed. Should I take Sam?
Me: No, he’ll be fine. Just go.
{{bad idea}}

Fast forward about 15 minutes. I’m on my bed unable to move my head.
Sam (4 year old): I pooped in my pants.
Me: Really? Why’d you shit in your pants again?
Then I realize he’s naked even though I don’t have my glasses on and can’t see 2 inches in front of me.
Me: Do you have poop on you?
Sam: Yep.
(insert turn around and shake butt at mom who is lying helpless on bed)
Me: Where’s your pants?
Sam: In the bedwoom. (spoken in true Samenese language)
In comes Emma.

Me: Emma, where did Sam poop?

Emma: In his bedroom.

Jesus Christ. Thankfully, before he left I told my husband to put my phone next to my bed in case I really did die, I could call for help.
I text him>
Me: Sam shit in his pants again.
Him: Wonderful, I’m on my way home.

Me: Emma says it’s on the bedroom floor and I can’t move my head.
Him: I’m here.
Thankfully I hear the car pulling up.

Conversation overheard in the dining room:
Husband: Why’d you poop in your pants?
Sam: I have to.

In comes my husband with my medicine. Thank God. Only it’s not Dramamine. It’s some other pills and wrist bands. Wrist bands? Am I going jogging? WTF? I look at him.

e: You just want me to wear these so I look stupid.

Him: I was going to get you a headband too, so you could ride your bike with it all on.
Me: Shutup or I’ll vomit on you.
Him: Hahahahahah.
I don’t care. I put on the wristbands and surprisingly, they work. Getting the pills in was a chore, but I managed. About three hours later, most of the vertigo was gone.

Thank God my husband was there for me.
After 10 minutes of screaming his damn name.


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