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I did something really dumb yesterday at school. I'm a senior this year so I wanted to try something rebellious, something "taboo". Hey, after all, you only get to be a high school senior once in a lifetime, right? Well anyways, I've befriended this group of guys that always hang around together and their thing is to "dip" skoal which is tobacco you put between your bottom lip and teeth. It's totally disgusting! Not just the spitting but it tastes so horrid! "Dipping" is highly against the school rules so that's actually what motivated me to try it. After lunch the guys broke out the skoal and told me to take a small bit and put it between my lip and gum but DON'T SWALLOW. I did as they said and soon I felt light-headed and rather pleasant. I spat the "juice" into my empty milk carton just like they did. Then the bell rang to go to next class so we all spit out our tobacco and proceeded to class. I stopped by the bathroom to rinse the tiny particles of tobacco out of my mouth. I was getting a little dizzy from the walk. About ten minutes into class I began to feel hot and a little nauseous. A short while later my stomach felt upset and started to churn. A LOT. Next, I began to sweat and my hands were shaky and my mouth kept filling with too much saliva. Even though I had thoroughly rinsed out my mouth I could still taste the skoal, which now tasted even worse than ever! How do you guys use this stuff? It's so gross! I've been nauseated many times in my eighteen years and almost always I can manage to "keep it down" but that's just from being "normally" sick. This was a whole different situation! It's like I was poisoned or something. I fought the nausea as I tried my best to pay attention to the teacher while taking notes. I really felt horribly quesy and I retched once which sounded like a cross between a dog's growl and a belch. Then I did it more times in rapid succession while covering my mouth. Ms. E******* stopped talkin! g and said "Candi, you may be excused go to the restroom if you like" "Nothanks, I'll be allright" I replied. I successfully fought away the waves of nausea through the rest of the class. By the end of class I felt almost o.k., at least my mouth wasn't getting all watery anymore but still a bit shaky, however, while enroute to my next class I felt sick again. I hurried into the nearest bathroom with my hand over my mouth but all the toilets were being used. I thought I may have to throw up in the sink (which I've done once before in an emergency) but instead I urgently knocked on one of the stall doors and pleaded "COULD YOU HURRY UP PLEASE I FEEL REALLY SICK!!!!". That worked like magic and immediately I heard the toilet flush and the girl in there made quick tracks! I rushed in, waited as long as I could until everyone else had gone, and discarded my chili macaroni lunch violently many, many times! I could'nt control it and it came out with such force that I wasn't a! ble to contain all of it into the bowl. My first heave missed completely and landed on the floor against the wall. My second heave splattered against the toilet seat and EVERYWHERE. I threw up forever before I was able to make it land into the bowl. When all was said and done the stall was a total disaster area. Sucks to be the janitor at times like that! The only other time I've ever been that sick is the time I got heat exhaustion at cheerleader practice.

Hi! well, here goes. Me, my friend (whose name is Ireland) and several of our friends, were planning a road trip to Galvestin. We were all very excited. Naturally I, due to my "delicate stomach" was griped at by everyone to take dramamine since I get carsick. For all the other guys out there who suffer from this ailment, you know how uncomfotable it becomes trying to be manly and crap and not puke in front of your woman. well, the big day came and we were loading up the car. it was decided that Paul would drive, and Jesse would get shotgun with Gina between them, and then Vickie, Ireland and I would be crammed in the backseat. Just as we were piling in, I realized that I had forgotten to take my medicine. I mumbled something about having to go to the restroom again, and sprinted to the house. I gulped down the pills, then ran back out to the car. All was going well for about an hour or so. (it was an 8 hour trip) Vickie was reading a , and Ireland was ra! llying everyone to sing disney songs, since she is quite musical. We sang and sang. When we reached the highway, Ireland was the only one left singing. Nobody minded of course since it is great entertainment to watch her sing. she is just so expressive. I glanced at Vickie's , and was slammed with an unexpected wave of nausea. I tried to ignore it. Minutes later, I realized the inevitable was about to happen. My stomach felt awful. that horrible dripping yucky sensation. The queasyness soon became apparent as i paled and began to pant, sweating lightly. Ireland, my dear sweetheart, took one look at me, broke off in mid-chourus and screamed: "Paul pull % Izzy's goin' to throw-up" Vickie's head snapped up and she shrieked scrambling away from me. Jesse began to search frantically for some sort of bag that could contain my vomit. I moaned, slumped up against the seat weakly. My breath was comeing more quickly now, a sure sign that my stomach was prep! aring ejection. Ireland did her best to make me comfortable, pushing my dark hair away from my damp and pallid forhead. "hand on sweetie", she whispered. I swallowed thickly, and became terribly dizzy. It was starting to be a race against time. or, my belly. I groaned again, and heard Paul telling Jesse to hurry up and find a bag, while Jesse shouted back for him to pull over unless he wanted his car to hold my entire lunch on display. finally i could hear the rustling of plastic, and then Ireland holding it up to my lips. I took a deep breath, heaved, and........... nothing happened. I sighed and slouched up against the seat. i could hear gasps of relief from the other members of our car pool. Just then, the full motion of the car hit me again. I felt my stomach lurch sickenly and I clamped a hand over my mouth. Another lurch and warm brownish liquid began to dribble between my fingers. I removed my hand, and with a violent gag, spewed the vomit straight ahead onto the heads of my friends. the windshield was coated in putrid brown liquid, and the roar in my ears prohibited me from hearing the shouts of my friends. I kept on heaving and heaving, until finally i passed out on Irelands lap in a pool of my throw up. We stopped at a hotel, and managed to get everything cleaned up, but the car might forever have that sweetly-sick vomit stench. Well, many hours and several stomach problems later, we finally made it to the beach. My friends forgave me, and Ireland and I danced in the twilight hours of the night upon the salty sand.

I get terrible headaches on a regular basis and it feels so awful sometimes that I get sick enough to vomit. My headaches go more quickly if I throw up. Here's the most recent occurrence of that. Last month I woke up feeling fine and went to work. I'm a cashier in a department store during the day but now I work there in the evenings part time since school started again. Usually I only get these in the morning hours. It started getting bad about nine thirty and I was nauseous before I knew it. I had five customers in my line and I didn't know if I could see it through but somehow I made it without slimeing them! After they left I told one of the other girls I was sick and to watch my register for me while I was in the restroom and I accidentally barfed on the floor a few times on my way to the bathrooms. Needless to say I got some weird stares from both customers and my fellow employees as well! Both stalls in the bathroom were occupied so I took the top off the garbage can and started vomiting in it really hard. I must have sounded pretty dramatic because the others in there certainly disappeared in a hurry!! At least I had the whole bathroom to myself now. After I had washed up a bit I went out to face the music and the floor manager told me to just clock and go so I did. "Don't worry about the floor we'll take care of that hope you feel better see 'ya tomorrow" ect., ect. I went home, took my meds and went to bed. My kid brother (age 13) gave me a rude awakening at seven thirty that evening because he was hungry. I felt better but totally all right. I found a note on the table my parents had left along with a twenty dollar bill explaining that they'd gone out for the evening and the money was for me to go get something for our dinner. I preferred to send out for pizza because I really didn't feel like driving (or eating) but burgers are cheaper and I get to keep the CHANGE! I was still a little queasy so I found an empty coffe can, put in some paper towels and took it with us in the car in the event I started throwing up again. I used the drive through at a local fast food place and when I got a whiff of the greasy food cooking I knew I was going to need "the can" very soon; maybe it was the motion of the car, or the smell, or a combination. We got his food, paid, and drove away. We'd driven about two blocks when I began to feel vomity again like I did at work. I told my brother to get "the can" ready as I looked for a good place to pull over. I thought of simply exiting the car to get sick but there were too many people around. I barfed once in "the can" and drove some more. I pulled over again at a gas station parking lot and half-filled "the can" (I know, EWWWW gross!!). I drove a little more but the next time there was no place to pull over so had to hold the can in my lap as I burped and gagged and drove and heaved and spat and shifted gears at the same time which is not exactly easy w ith a stickshift on a busy friday night and I couldn't help getting some on my clothes. Luckily we made it home without getting into an accident. I tossed "the can" out the window just before turning onto our street. I sat on the lawn furniture and freely threw up on the grass to my hearts content then my headache began to fade considerably. My brother ate his food and I took some more meds. He kept teasing me and imitating me throwing up while I was driving so I took a bath and went to my room. My parents came in around eleven thirty and checked in on me. My brother had blabbed ALL the gory details to them. I felt o.k. by then but they gave me a thorough lecture about the dangers of driving while sick, especially with my brother in the car with me. They said it would have been smarter for me to send out for pizza instead. Go figure ... .

Hugh G.
I was in the school band from the sixth grade until graduation. In high school, the first half of the year is spent marching and practicing for marching contests. The second half of the year is the concert season, which includes more contests. Part of the contests included sight reading, which is when the band is given a piece of music they have never seen before, and is rated on how well they perform. Band rehearsal was the hour just before lunch. I played the baritone, which placed me toward the rear of the class. One day during rehearsal, the director gave us a piece of music to practice sight reading. Part of the contest is that the director is given five minutes to go over the usic with the band before the performance begins, so that's what he did. A girl in the clarinet section, seated in the front row, seemed a bit inattentive. The director picked up his baton, and we started playing. Ours was one of the best high school bands in the state, and we banged our w! ay through the song without too much difficulty. Towards the end of the song, there was a percussion solo, during which time all the other sections were silent. The percussion solo was for two or three measures, followed by some more notes from the rest of the band, followed by another percussion solo, then the last couple of measures of the song. When we got to the first drum solo, the drums missed their cue, and we all heard... "cough cough cough.... Oh my God...!" followed by the brief interlude fro the rest of the band. Then, about five seconds later, came the second drum solo... "(wet coughs) brrrrrraaaaaaccchh!" The director got a sick look on his mustachioed face... ...then the song concluded. I couldn't see what she was doing, but the girl in the clarinet section spit up some fresh, technicolor vomit on the chair next to her during the first drom solo. During the interlude, she grabbed the piece of music from the stand to cover it, and bolted from the band hall. The second dru solo was just in time to hear the rest of her stomach contents spill onto the floor outside the band hall. At the end of the year, we were instructed to put all the music in our folders in alphabetical order, so they could be returded, one at a time, to the director. When we got to that sight-read song, the girl blurted out, "I BARFED on mine!" Rection.

This is one of those great college dorm pukefest stories, so here goesI had felt nauseous in my classes all day, and even excused myself in one to sprint to a bathroom and have a totally liquid bowel movement and some dry heaves. As I was walking across the courtyard to return to my dorm, I felt some sharp pains in my belly and hunched over for the rest of my walk. When I finally reached my room, my shaky hands fumbled w/the key. My roomate wasn't in, so I just flopped on the bed and sat there for awhile. It seemed like all the nausea had drained out of me, but as soon as I stood up, it felt like an ocean during a brutal storm inside of me, and my little stomach was getting shipwrecked. I figured not to chance it, and walked into the bathroom and crouched in front of the toilet in preparation. My belly thrusted and some brownish liquid came up, but not a lot. I didn't feel better, but I was done for now. I went back to lay on my bed, and my terrible stomachache returned. I felt like I had a watermelon in my stomach. Then, all of a sudden, I started producing a lot of saliva, and my sore belly became disgustingly nauseous. It felt like someone jammed a funnel in my belly button and poured liquid into my stomach, filling it beyond exploding point. My belly was a bit swollen, but the feeling was like nothing I'll ever forget. You know how incredibly stuffed you feel after Thanksgiving dinner, like u can't even move and you have to loosen your pants? Well, imagine that, but 100 times worse, and that's how my belly felt. I bolted off the bed, but I then I gave a monster, watery burp and the chunks went flying everywhere. Brownish liquid didn't just pour out my mouth, it gushed, with force! My aching belly heaved and up came more and more, covering everything and creating a putrid stench. I clamped my hand over my mouth and jogged to the bathroom, but then threw up in the doorway, leaving a nice trail all the way to the toilet. I puked up a lot more, exhausting my already sore stomach from heaving. After aw! hile I finished up, but still felt just as bad. I couldnt clean up my mess, I was still too sick. So, I brought the garbage can over to my bed for emergencies and rested. Every few minutes, I'd lean over and barf a little. I felt a little gassy, so I passed some gas, but felt a liquidy warmth in my underwear and knew it was a little more than gas, but I could do nothing. My nausea paralyzed me to the bed, as my bottom kept squirting. Just then, a horrendous wave of nausea hit me and I jumped up, throwing up all over myself, the floor, but not the garbage can. As I was violently upchucking, I felt my bottom shoot again, and smelly greenish brown liquid flooded out of shorts and down my legs. It just so happens my roomate flings open the door, standing w/her boyfriend! I can't say anything as I'm still having the runs and throwing up, but I looked at my roomie, and she turned a sickly green color, retched, and up came her lunch. The boyfriend quietly excused himself as s! he dropped to all fours and heaved up chunks. After quite a bit, we stopped and started cleaning up our stinking mess. When we were partially done, she mentioned she, too, had felt pretty gross all day, and the site of me being sick just forced it up. It must have been something passed between us, but oh well. For the next two days we both had pretty bad diarreha, some episodes of barfing, and had bad bellyaches and nausea. She even threw up right in the middle of a class once! We soon go over it, though, but that has got to be the sickest I've ever been!

WHY, if I'm going to be sick at my stomach, it always happens in the middle of the night? I've never had it happen in the daytime--noooo. It's always in the dark, waking up well after midnight feeling bad and then realizing that I have to go throw up. When I was in my senior year at CU, one Friday night we were all at a devotional for the college group at my church. There had been fish for dinner in the dorm dining hall, and I think there might have been something wrong with it--but I don't know, as no one I knew got sick except me. And normally, I pride myself on having a cast-iron stomach and never getting sick. (Well, hardly ever...) We had finished hearing the lesson and having our group singing, and all of us in the campus ministry, about 100 students or so, were just hanging around in the church building, talking and having fellowship. Along about then, I started to feel sick. I was kind of hanging around the bathroom, just in case, until a good friend of mine in the group offered to take me home. Lee had a new car, so I thought this was amazingly generous of her, considering the likelihood that I wasn't going to make it home before losing my dinner. She took me home in her fancy red car, driving carefully and taking the turns easy, until we got to the driveway of my dining hall. I said, "oh, no..." and Lee said, "Out, quick!" I opened the door and scrambled out onto the grass. I had a sort of cough-gag-heave episode, but nothing much happened. I got back in, and she took me the rest of the way to the dorm and made sure I got inside OK. Bless her heart. Good old Lee. Anyway, still feeling generally lousy, I got myself to bed and was asleep by the time my roommate came home herself from the devotional. She had no idea I wasn't feeling very well. Anyway, I was asleep, but it didn't last. I woke up some hours later, and realized that the time had come. The back of my mouth felt strange, and I was sweating, and I could feel muscle spasms starting in my belly. I got up as quietly as I could, and slipped out of the room. Out of habit, I started to put my glasses on--I'm hopelessly nearsighted--and then it occurred to me that this was a REALLY bad idea: what if they fell off, while I was doing what I had to do? Then I'd have to fish them out.... forget it. So, in the dark, without my glasses, I fumbled my way down the hall to the bathroom, with my upset stomach protesting all the way. I made it, though, and knelt there and waited. I didn't have to wait very long, as I could already feel the vomit starting to come up. I knelt there and heaved for several minutes, each heave bringing up more thick yellow stuff, until I felt like it was all over. I had been as neat and careful as I could--there was no mess on the floor or anywhere else. Then I crept back down the hall to our room and let myself in, and went back to bed. Whew! My rommie was still snoring and hadn't heard me. Good. That would've been bad enough once. But my long night was not over. I repeated this same performance--groping blindly down the hallway, finding the stall, kneeling, throwing up some more, and crawling silently back to bed--several more times. Finally it was daylight. I had slept a little, and then woke up. I lay there for awhile, until I realized that I needed to make another trip. My roommate was nowhere in sight. I got up, headed down the hall once again, and into the same stall, to do the same thing I'd been doing all night. I'd already thrown up everything I'd eaten the night before, and had nothing left to bring up, so now it was just heaving. I had a headache, and my stomach hurt so bad. My roommate was in the next stall. She was washing her hands when I came out, and asked, "hey--what's wrong? Was that you?" I told her what my night had been like. She scolded me for not waking her up to help me, walked me back to our room and helped me get back into bed. Th! en she stuck by me all morning, while I got sick a couple more times. She had a lot of more fun things to do, but she stayed with me. I was getting faint and light-headed from losing so much fluid. Finally, she said, "this is NOT gonna go on." With that, she walked me over to the student health center and they took care of me, giving me some medicine to stop it. My blood-pressure was way down from being sick so much. I spent the rest of the day in bed, in another church-sister's dorm room, because Nance insisted that somebody keep an eye on me. She was, I swear, the best roommate in the known universe. By the next day I was fine. I had been invited to a family's house for Sunday dinner after church, and it went beautifully. I ate what I wanted with no trouble. Never did find out what caused me to get so ill.

This happened a while ago when we were doing some home-improvement type stuff. A friend of mine was helping me paint the garage...loads of fun, right? But it was really nice of him to help me, as I'm scared to climb ladders. Well, it got really hot, up in the 90s, and we decided to quit and have lunch before we kept on painting. We sent out for pizza, since neither of us wanted to deal with cooking anything. After we had our pizza and Pepsis, we figured we'd better get back to painting before it rained or something. So we were out there, painting and sanding and the whole deal. He must have gone up and down that ladder a dozen times. Finally, we finished getting the first coat on, and we figured we could quit until the next day. We were walking back, and he was so tired he kind of wasn't looking, and he got his foot tangled up in the garden hose and fell flat on his face in the driveway. After that, we kind of sat there in the grass for awhile to see if he was OK. He was shaken, and of course falling on the concrete raised a big lump on his forehead. It was really weird--you could see this bump swelling up while we were sitting there. He just sat there for about half an hour, and then he said "Can we go inside? I don't feel very good." He got up, a little shaky, and then we walked inside. I took him in the kitchen so he could sit down while I got some ice for the bump on his head. I was rooting around in the freezer and couldn't find any ice, so I was looking for something like frozen peas or whatever. I heard him make this kind of groaning noise, and when I turned around, he was holding on to the dishwasher, and then he suddenly threw up. He upchucked everything he'd had for lunch, and then some. He had a full stomach, and threw up all of it on my kitchen floor. What an unbelievable mess. I wished we'd stayed outside! Finally, he stopped heaving. At that point I figured he had a concussion, even though he didn't get knocked out, because he got so sick after he hit his head. I tried to get him to let me take him to the emergency, but he wouldn't go. He just went and lay down on the couch and stayed there. I found the frozen veg???s and put it on his head, and after a while he fell asleep. I let him stay the night there on the couch, cause he didn't look like in any shape to drive home. The next day he felt pretty much OK, except for this huge lump on his forehead, and a black eye. We never did decide just why he got sick, whether it was from working outside in the heat right after lunch, or from hitting his head when he fell. Probably both! But that is the sickest I have ever seen anybody.

Hi well, here is another one about myself. Eden (my wife) and I were invited for a day of boating on the lake with my brother-in-law. well, for someone who has BAD motion sickness like me, I was not at all looking forward to it. Eden on the other hand, was estatic. Simply vibrating with excitment. (She LOVES sailing- did it in collage) Anyway, I wanted this to be a good trip for her, so i got perscription medicine to try to calm my quirky stomach. We stopped at Mcdonalds on the way, and even though i also get carsick, I ate: 5 pancakes, 3 hashbrowns, and 2 large glasses of orange juice. so we were on our way again. Thanks to the motion in the car, i began to get a little queasy, but it was no big deal. Finally we were at the lake. Eden and her brother were so excited it was hard for myself not to be, so i was also looking forward to the outing, thinking that my gorge was taken care of. We were out on the water for about 10 minutes, when my sensitive belly began to strongly sense the motion of the waves, which were beginning to cause me to feel unpleasent. I remembered all the ocean movies i had seen, with the sailboats going UP and DOWN. UP and DOWN. I felt my head begin to bob with the thought. So while Eden and her brother were chatting ernestly about old times, I sat at the bow, getting more and more sick to my stomach. I knew that my face was that familier shade of pale yellow, and all i could think about were my pancakes that i had eaten. Eden's brother began to talk to me, but i could barely respond, i was so intent on keeping my stomach from heaving. I might have even made it until we reached the shore again, but lunch was being served. Fish. Cold Fish. I stared at it and thought about the greasy scales that had been sloughed off of its slimish damp skin. Then, before I could even move, my stomach twisted and dropped along with the waves of the lake. I hunched over and threw up all over the fish, tackle, myself, Eden and her brother. It was alot of vomit. It began to clump up between the s of the boat, and the pancakes along with everything else were curds soaked in a thick brown liquid. Just looking at my previous mess, caused me to retch again helplessly, unable to scramble to the edge of the boat. I groaned and slumped up against the side. Eden threw me a dirty look and said: "For heaven's sake, can't I take you anywhere?"

Speaking of turboprop airliners (I HATE those..UGGHH!) I got SICK SICK SICKKKKK on one a few years ago when I was visiting home from college. It was the first time I'd ever flown. The weather was a nice calm summer's day but still that didn't make any difference it may as well have been storming. Before boarding I called mom and dad one final time just to make sure they would be at the airport to pick me up. During takeoff the motion I felt was not unlike the feeling I get on boats. Seemed to take forever to climb to traveling height and the plane pitched and rocked terribly. I soon realized my newly discovered fear of heights as I looked out the window below to see the shrinking city underneath the wickedly teetering propjob I was imprisoned in. I didn't feel sick just yet and I thought the ride would smooth itself out as we got higher. I asked my seatmate "is it going to get any smoother than this?" and he (a frequent business traveller) said "depends on who's driving today". I started feeling sick soon afterwards and was beginning to regret having eaten lunch with my friends before going to the airport. I felt simply awful and the stewardess gave me dramamine(?) and some coke and I fell asleep in a little while listening to my walkman. I needed/wanted to throw up very badly but I was too ashamed to use the barf bag with other people watching. Just the sight of those barf bags neatly stashed in front of each seat was more than I could stand. Call it visual stimuli as in Palovo's dog; I was indeed salivating! The plane continued to pitch and roll and rock throughout the entire hour and a half flight. It was like riding on a yo-yo. I thought I'd be all right once we landed but I was still awfully sick; dizzy, clammy, rubbery feeling in my legs and nauseous. I almost lost it while walking through the terminal to meet my folks after I saw a little kid doing it on the floor. They asked me if there was anything wrong and that I didn't look well so I told them I just got airsick. We made it home and I immediately bolted straight into the bathroom, hand over mouth, and emptied my stomach all over the floor, the counter, the sink, and last but not least, the toilet. My mom and dad and my brothers all came into the bathroom to see me hunching over the bowl projectile vomiting but they were pretty sympathetic. "Whoa, look at all those chunks everywhere! Go get the camcorder!" said my younger brother as he pinched his nose. Mom began the clean up job with a sponge while my brothers made musement of my situation until she chased them out. I was pretty damned sick and I spent probably an hour on my knees in front of the toilet until I was finished. The amount of puke I produced was almost unbelievable, as soon as my stomach felt empty there would be more still. It kept coming in waves. The bathroom smelled like my puke for a couple of days. I was too sick to want supper so the family barbecue plans were postponed until next day. After I was finished vomiting I felt somewhat better but I was still dizzy and I couldn't sleep that night. Dad was so sweet that during the following week he bought me my graduation present early, a brand spanking new Ford Explorer so I wouldn't have to fly and get sick when I wanted to come home! When I went back to school I got lots of comments on my new explorer "All because you get sick on planes? Your dad's the bomb!" they would say. I've ridden jets a few times after that and they're far superior to the turboprop kind. I'll post again soon with my stomach flu incident ...

A Dr.
This is a long one... Anyway, I'm now a surgeon, but I remember back in the horrible days as a resident, when I was overworked and severely underpaid, that I lived on coffe and doughnuts. Hey, when you're on call 24/7/365, what else CAN you eat?! I assisted w/many surgeries before, but this one special day, I was finally able to be the main surgeon, with an attending physician. So after a long night of sleeping on the lumpy mattress in the on-call room, I was ready for my first-ever surgery, which happened to be the removal of a gallbladder. As I awakened, I felt a little nauseous, but I figured it was just nerves, being my first operation and all. I scrubbed up and walked into the operating theater, and there lay a pretty well sedated human being, waiting for me to cut him open, rip out part of his body, and sew 'em back up. It hit me like a ton of bricks - I was responsible for this person's life! OH MY GOD! Breathing deeply, I fought to swallow the saliva that kept fi! lling up my mouth. My nervous belly was doing somersaults. The anesthesiologist put the patient to sleep, and I nervously said the words every resident longs to say... "Scalpel!". Making that first incision was like a toddler taking her first step... and that was about when I lost it. My gurgling ???? was starting to get an undeniable ache and pressure, and I could feel a sort of pulsation. Then, I spread apart the skin, and voila` - there was the gallbladder, loud and clear... and all the blood and guts to make anybody sick. Quickly, I turned away and my horrendously aching stomach gave a sickening bulge, a full-body heave, and up came my undigested doughnuts, coffee, salad, and whatever else I had eaten previously in that dreadful hospital cafeteria. My smelly vomit painted the antiseptic white floor, and the nurses gasped as I dropped to my knees, clutching my swollen stomach, heaving and coughing and spitting up liquidy matter that seemed like much more than my! little stomach could hold. Just then, my superior stopped in to see how I was doing, and he saw me puking up a storm, which now came in chunky form that resembled meatballs. As I was barfing, the attending doctor finished up the operation, thankfully! After awhile, I was ushered to the on call room, where I quickly filled up a basin with watery stomach contents. I thought I had finished for awhile, so I lay down and put a hand on my throbbing stomach which continued to do sickening waves of nausea. I fell asleep, only waking up once to have watery diarreaha and a quick squirt of liquid out of my mouth. I arose at 5:30 AM for morning rounds, even though I still had a pretty bad bellyache and unbearable, crippling nausea. As we made our way to the first patient, I felt a familiar pressure in my sick belly, and got a silky feeling in my throat. I tapped my leader's shoulder, whispered to him about my urgent need to relieve myself, and scurried out the door. As I was sprint! ing down the hall towards restrooms, my terribly upset stomach became even more upset as it bounced up and down as a result of running. I burped loudly a few times and fought back the chunks that were filling up my mouth. My belly felt as if it were stretched to the limit and about to explode, being so full with ripe puke that it couldn't hold any more... I coughed once and some liquid escaped my mouth, drooling on my white coat. I finally made it into a stall, and exploded. My bulging belly erupted with creamy vomit, and I sprayed the walls with a loud GLUUUUUK sound. I could almost HEAR my stomach heaving, bulging, pulsating, somersaulting, gurgling, squirting, sloshing... you name it, thats how I felt! After finishing up after a few minutes of endless stomach thrusts that produced what looked like gallons of gook, I went to my advisor and asked for the day off. He let me, of course, and I went home and blew chunks all day... with an extreme bellyache and horrible nause! a for 2 days. Gee, I LOVE my profession! :)

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