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Mar. 18th, 2003 01:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_rckThe food at the reception wasn't anything I could eat. They'd ordered the food the night before, pizza and sandwiches basically, for the gathering they were having then (an open house of sorts) and then refrigerated the leftovers until after the wedding. Scott and I stayed until after the cake was served (I only ate a bite or two. It simply didn't appeal much) before going looking for food. Once again, we couldn't interest anyone in keeping us company.
This time, we decided to try to find the burger place that my sister had mentioned to us (it had simply been too far to go the day before). I knew I needed protein badly, and that seemed as good a way to get it as any. It was quite a hike, at least for Scott-- The Aladdin has an attached mall called something like "The Desert Oasis." The style of the place varies, but it's all quite fancy with facades for the shops that try to make it all look like a street. I think the style of most of it was more Moorish than Arabic, but I could be mistaken. A lot of my focus through most of the journey was on cursing the paving. Textured stone may look good, but riding over it in a wheelchair sucks.
The burger place had, of all things, a vaguely Hawaiian theme. Like every other restaurant we encountered, this place (the name of which I can't recall) charged an arm and a leg. Instead of having a large variety of burgers, they had one basic sandwich in each class (cheeseburger, veggie burger, chicken, turkey, etc.) and a menu of add ons. The extras were expensive-- A different cheese was $1 extra, mushrooms $1.50, and so on. Still the burger I had was pretty good.
After that, we went back to the reception for a little while. I was hoping for a chance to talk to some of my family (Not Laura. That was hopeless given that everyone wanted to talk to her). Not much came of that unfortunately. My step-father and his brother had dragged my brother off to some sort of IMAX show with the stated intention of catching another show (the Blue Men, I think) afterward. My mother was occupied with trying to tidy up the suite while most of Laura's friends were running errands (mostly looking for more booze) or taking time out to visit the casino. Although, the smokers were officially confining their habit to one room of the suite, there was enough in the air to irritate my lungs.
Laura tried to encourage us to go out and do something, but she was pretty much at a loss as to what to suggest apart from the Star Trek thing. (We did consider that, but I was feeling too dreadful to have much enthusiasm. Scott had the sort of it-might-be-nice attitude toward the possibility without showing any real interest. If he'd seemed really interested, I'd have pushed myself to do it.) Instead, we went and got a little ice cream (which normally settles my stomach) and returned to our room. Once we were sure we were staying put, Scott returned the wheelchair (it was $20 a day, and if we'd kept it, we wouldn't have used it enough to justify that additional $20.) I took another bath, this time using some ginger bath oil that we'd gotten at the mall (There was an Origins outlet there). After I finished, we talked about ordering a movie and came very close to doing so, but... It was very late as far as my body was concerned, nearly 11pm by the time I finished the bath. I knew I'd fall asleep (as it turned out, I was wrong, but that's hindsight) before the only movie that interested me, The Two Towers, was over.
So we packed up most of our stuff in preparation for our departure the next morning and arranged for a wake up call at 7am (10am as far as my body was concerned). Then we went to bed.
That's when I discovered that my problem the night before was probably not overeating. The ice cream I'd had a couple of hours earlier started trying to come back up. I was rather inclined to let it since I suspected I'd actually be able to sleep once it was over, but it didn't happen. Instead, nastiness threatened for the next four hours. Any time I started to nod off, my body'd start to throw up. Whether I was sitting up straight or lying down made no difference. The only question seemed to be whether or not I was awake. (So you see, I could have watched The Two Towers...)
I was rather more upset by all of this than I'd been by the troubles of the previous night. I'd been very careful about what I ate when and how much I had. I'd done everything right according to my past experience, and I still got sick. Even worse, I got sick from something that I've always counted on as a remedy for the problem I was having. I concluded that I probably need to allow at least six hours after I eat anything solid before I allow myself to sleep.
I ended up waking up considerably before I had to and finding myself too restless to sleep again. My restlessness woke Scott. We cuddled for a while and then got up. (He was doing fine because he'd had plenty of sleep, even with being awakened by my troubles. He's used to getting by with a lot less sleep than I seem to need.) I worked on final packing while Scott showered. We eventually headed out for breakfast before our wake up call was due.
We went back to the Zanzibar Café because it was the only restaurant in the building open that early (room service would have cost twice as much). I had a slightly different type of pancakes and ended up eating only half of what they gave me (I don't think anybody could have managed the whole serving!). We also ordered a sandwich to go so that we'd have something solid to eat before getting on the plane.
The airline had told us to arrive three hours before departure, and Scott's father, who'd been to Las Vegas a couple of weeks before had told us to take the time warning seriously, so we asked the hotel to arrange a shuttle pickup for 9am. As it turned out, getting through security only took us about 45 minutes, so we had another long wait. I was feeling a little better this time than I had in Detroit, largely, I suspect, because I'd eaten breakfast.
Scott wandered the airport a little bit while we were waiting. He said he needed the exercise. I stayed with the bags and babied my hip. When he came back, I told him that this was his last opportunity to gamble-- He'd mentioned when we arrived that he sort of thought he should at least try a slot machine once, but he never got around to it. When I mentioned that, he kind of laughed and told me that all of the time we'd spent trying to get through the casino level in the Aladdin (which consisted of slot machines and various other mechanical gambling devices) in order to find things had rather put him off the whole notion. He now associates slot machines with cigarette smoke and with being lost, neither of which make him want to spend any time or money on them.
I wrestled with a couple of different books on the flight back but didn't really find any of them engaging. The inflight food consisted of a tiny turkey sandwich, a small bag of Fritos, and two cinnamon cookies. We were both glad of the sandwich we'd eaten right before boarding (Scott had 3/4 of it). We were very glad to be back in Detroit by the end of things and even more glad that we hadn't checked and bags and could just get out of there. (We later learned that the baggage carousel in that building had been broken for weeks so that they had to hand out luggage manually. I think we were just as well out of that.)
The shuttle ride back to our car was even worse than the ride in. Scott mentioned afterward that, if he'd realized how much trouble I had with it, he'd have gone to get the car and then picked me up at the terminal. I managed not to growl at him by reminding myself that it was a notion that I could have thought of and really should have. My abdominal muscles are still sore from the bouncing, though. Every jolt went straight to my belly.
I didn't eat anything after we got home, but I did drink a fair amount because I was feeling pretty dehydrated. I have the impression that this was a wise decision because my body tried, as I fell asleep, to find something to bring back up. Since there simply wasn't anything there, I was able to take a Tums and go to sleep. I'm still finding the notion of eating fairly repellant right now, and with Scott not around to bully me, it's been difficult to manage today. The wishful thinking part of my brain is still hoping that this is something that's going to go away now that I'm home, and due to that I ended up putting off calling the obstetrician. I meant to do it, but... What's she going to have to offer? The last time I talked to her, she more or less said that the reflux wasn't something that can be fixed short of delivery. I'm already at maximum medications.
This time, we decided to try to find the burger place that my sister had mentioned to us (it had simply been too far to go the day before). I knew I needed protein badly, and that seemed as good a way to get it as any. It was quite a hike, at least for Scott-- The Aladdin has an attached mall called something like "The Desert Oasis." The style of the place varies, but it's all quite fancy with facades for the shops that try to make it all look like a street. I think the style of most of it was more Moorish than Arabic, but I could be mistaken. A lot of my focus through most of the journey was on cursing the paving. Textured stone may look good, but riding over it in a wheelchair sucks.
The burger place had, of all things, a vaguely Hawaiian theme. Like every other restaurant we encountered, this place (the name of which I can't recall) charged an arm and a leg. Instead of having a large variety of burgers, they had one basic sandwich in each class (cheeseburger, veggie burger, chicken, turkey, etc.) and a menu of add ons. The extras were expensive-- A different cheese was $1 extra, mushrooms $1.50, and so on. Still the burger I had was pretty good.
After that, we went back to the reception for a little while. I was hoping for a chance to talk to some of my family (Not Laura. That was hopeless given that everyone wanted to talk to her). Not much came of that unfortunately. My step-father and his brother had dragged my brother off to some sort of IMAX show with the stated intention of catching another show (the Blue Men, I think) afterward. My mother was occupied with trying to tidy up the suite while most of Laura's friends were running errands (mostly looking for more booze) or taking time out to visit the casino. Although, the smokers were officially confining their habit to one room of the suite, there was enough in the air to irritate my lungs.
Laura tried to encourage us to go out and do something, but she was pretty much at a loss as to what to suggest apart from the Star Trek thing. (We did consider that, but I was feeling too dreadful to have much enthusiasm. Scott had the sort of it-might-be-nice attitude toward the possibility without showing any real interest. If he'd seemed really interested, I'd have pushed myself to do it.) Instead, we went and got a little ice cream (which normally settles my stomach) and returned to our room. Once we were sure we were staying put, Scott returned the wheelchair (it was $20 a day, and if we'd kept it, we wouldn't have used it enough to justify that additional $20.) I took another bath, this time using some ginger bath oil that we'd gotten at the mall (There was an Origins outlet there). After I finished, we talked about ordering a movie and came very close to doing so, but... It was very late as far as my body was concerned, nearly 11pm by the time I finished the bath. I knew I'd fall asleep (as it turned out, I was wrong, but that's hindsight) before the only movie that interested me, The Two Towers, was over.
So we packed up most of our stuff in preparation for our departure the next morning and arranged for a wake up call at 7am (10am as far as my body was concerned). Then we went to bed.
That's when I discovered that my problem the night before was probably not overeating. The ice cream I'd had a couple of hours earlier started trying to come back up. I was rather inclined to let it since I suspected I'd actually be able to sleep once it was over, but it didn't happen. Instead, nastiness threatened for the next four hours. Any time I started to nod off, my body'd start to throw up. Whether I was sitting up straight or lying down made no difference. The only question seemed to be whether or not I was awake. (So you see, I could have watched The Two Towers...)
I was rather more upset by all of this than I'd been by the troubles of the previous night. I'd been very careful about what I ate when and how much I had. I'd done everything right according to my past experience, and I still got sick. Even worse, I got sick from something that I've always counted on as a remedy for the problem I was having. I concluded that I probably need to allow at least six hours after I eat anything solid before I allow myself to sleep.
I ended up waking up considerably before I had to and finding myself too restless to sleep again. My restlessness woke Scott. We cuddled for a while and then got up. (He was doing fine because he'd had plenty of sleep, even with being awakened by my troubles. He's used to getting by with a lot less sleep than I seem to need.) I worked on final packing while Scott showered. We eventually headed out for breakfast before our wake up call was due.
We went back to the Zanzibar Café because it was the only restaurant in the building open that early (room service would have cost twice as much). I had a slightly different type of pancakes and ended up eating only half of what they gave me (I don't think anybody could have managed the whole serving!). We also ordered a sandwich to go so that we'd have something solid to eat before getting on the plane.
The airline had told us to arrive three hours before departure, and Scott's father, who'd been to Las Vegas a couple of weeks before had told us to take the time warning seriously, so we asked the hotel to arrange a shuttle pickup for 9am. As it turned out, getting through security only took us about 45 minutes, so we had another long wait. I was feeling a little better this time than I had in Detroit, largely, I suspect, because I'd eaten breakfast.
Scott wandered the airport a little bit while we were waiting. He said he needed the exercise. I stayed with the bags and babied my hip. When he came back, I told him that this was his last opportunity to gamble-- He'd mentioned when we arrived that he sort of thought he should at least try a slot machine once, but he never got around to it. When I mentioned that, he kind of laughed and told me that all of the time we'd spent trying to get through the casino level in the Aladdin (which consisted of slot machines and various other mechanical gambling devices) in order to find things had rather put him off the whole notion. He now associates slot machines with cigarette smoke and with being lost, neither of which make him want to spend any time or money on them.
I wrestled with a couple of different books on the flight back but didn't really find any of them engaging. The inflight food consisted of a tiny turkey sandwich, a small bag of Fritos, and two cinnamon cookies. We were both glad of the sandwich we'd eaten right before boarding (Scott had 3/4 of it). We were very glad to be back in Detroit by the end of things and even more glad that we hadn't checked and bags and could just get out of there. (We later learned that the baggage carousel in that building had been broken for weeks so that they had to hand out luggage manually. I think we were just as well out of that.)
The shuttle ride back to our car was even worse than the ride in. Scott mentioned afterward that, if he'd realized how much trouble I had with it, he'd have gone to get the car and then picked me up at the terminal. I managed not to growl at him by reminding myself that it was a notion that I could have thought of and really should have. My abdominal muscles are still sore from the bouncing, though. Every jolt went straight to my belly.
I didn't eat anything after we got home, but I did drink a fair amount because I was feeling pretty dehydrated. I have the impression that this was a wise decision because my body tried, as I fell asleep, to find something to bring back up. Since there simply wasn't anything there, I was able to take a Tums and go to sleep. I'm still finding the notion of eating fairly repellant right now, and with Scott not around to bully me, it's been difficult to manage today. The wishful thinking part of my brain is still hoping that this is something that's going to go away now that I'm home, and due to that I ended up putting off calling the obstetrician. I meant to do it, but... What's she going to have to offer? The last time I talked to her, she more or less said that the reflux wasn't something that can be fixed short of delivery. I'm already at maximum medications.
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no subject
Date: 2003-03-18 10:44 am (UTC)Hope stuff clears up on its own for you.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-18 10:51 am (UTC)I have called my OB, so I'll see what she suggests.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-18 11:19 am (UTC)I'm sorry to hear you're feeling so badly. Eat anyway.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-18 07:05 pm (UTC)I just hate spending this much time in that state of being where I actually want to throw up simply because I know I'll feel better afterward.