I'm working from home today after a terrible night. I guess it was food poisoning. I ate lunch at work yesterday, then about twenty minutes later I started feeling really strange. I was in a meeting, and I excused myself, and got up and walked around, and walked out onto the deck for a little fresh air. It felt like maybe indigestion or heartburn or something, just extremely uncomfortable.
I went back into the meeting and apologized, and said I was going to have to leave. I grabbed my stuff, shut down the computer, and drove home with the windows open, praying I could make it. I got home, and spent the next twelve hours being violently ill. Bob talked to John, who told him to go get me some Gatorade, which he did, and I sipped that as much as I could. The cats curled up on the bed with me and kept me company.
I guess it must have been food poisoning, but the scary thing is that I ate food I brought from home--a grilled chicken breast and homemade vegetable soup. But both of them had been in the refrigerator for about a week, so I guess it could have been that. Also, I had handled raw chicken that morning--I'd put some in a marinade for Bob to cook later--so even though I washed my hands, I guess I may have touched something . . . Hard to imagine that it's that toxic, but who knows?
This is the third time that I've gotten food poisoning in the last couple of years; I always thought I could eat just about anything, but maybe not anymore. The two other times were after eating in restaurants.
I finally got to sleep around midnight, and woke up at 3:00 a.m. feeling mostly normal--a huge relief. I thought about going in to work, then decided to stay home and work from here, just in case I started feeling bad again, but I haven't. Apart from the sore muscles. So far today I've eaten a Cup-o-Noodles (ramen) and a chicken and noodle cup thing that you add water to . . . I'm afraid to eat anything, really. I've been drinking a lot of Gatorade. What I really feel like I want is some chocolate, but there isn't any in the house . . .