Better

I think the pharmacist made a mistake and gave me Emesis instead of Premesis. I am imagining the ad campaign: Syrup of ipecac? So last millennium. When your vomiting is irregular and infrequent, ask your doctor about Emesis. Perhaps George Weasley was behind the counter and slipped me some Puking Pastilles with the helpful end cut off. I don't know what happened, but the prescription that was supposed to cut my nausea seemed to ramp it way, way up instead. Ugh.

Last night I was trying to talk myself down. You're stressed about the weekend. You know you're always sicker when you're stressed. You can take an incomplete if you really can't finish those papers for your psychology class. You'll feel better in a few weeks. It's going to be all right. It wasn't working very well. There's a point on the nausea spectrum where I lose perspective. There's probably an algorithm: dry heaving ≥ 3 = wailing + gnashing of teeth.

So I just went to bed early, and thankfully was not awakened by nausea in the night -- probably because that stupid pill was out of my system. I am back to ordinary-sick this morning, and hoping hoping hoping that it was really just the Premesis making me so much worse. Did they change the formulation? Did I get the batch with the secret mustard ingredient? No idea. But I'm grateful to be a paler shade of green (sung, of course, to Procol Harum's tune).