She pulled her head out of the toilet bowl and wondered again, ‘’What the fuck are we going to do?” The pressure in here head continued to push inwards until she thought her eyeballs would pop out. She grabbed for the Kleenex wiping away the long slick drool that hung from her lower lip and slowly got to her feet. Not too fast because those head spins aren’t fun. She lowered the lid and sat on the seat of the toilet. It was a good thing that she was adept in vomiting quietly. The first year after her gastric by-pass surgery in 1988 at the ripe age of 31 helped to hone that particular skill into a fine art. Back then it wasn’t vomiting so much as regurgitating. Hard to believe that 150 lbs melted away in the first year….a whole person.
There was no sense in having him hear her throw up yet again. No, all that would do would upset him further and chance bringing them both closer to another argument. Grabbing another Kleenex, she wiped the line of sweat that gathered on her forehead, throwing that tissue into the container beside the toilet. It was a simple container and she wool gathered on trying to remember what it took to find just the right one for the main floor bathroom. So many different types of garbage cans but she wanted just the right one. How many trips to Home Depot, Pier One, Walmart, Home Sense and a host of other small out of the way shops that just might have the right can? Nope, no real recall, just a faint memory of feeling satisfied that the simple white container fit perfectly between the toilet and the knee wall that was built to ensure one a wee bit of privacy when sharing your most personal experience with your loved one.
She could hear Joe Rogan’s voice coming from the living room, walking Eddy Alvarez through the replay of the tape when the fight was called no contest after Eddy kneed his opponent when he was down. Apparently, there are some rules in the Octagon and that was one of them. She thought back on the days when she worked in the next office to a mother of a UFC fighter. Not much time for chit chat but recalled her colleague saying that she couldn’t stand to watch her son fight but wanted to support him in his choice to do what he loved. She didn’t smoke but would have a cigarette and a glass of wine, the volume turned off on the television and walk in and out of the room while her son was fighting. She said there were times he came home and his face looked like hamburger. How hard would it be, she wondered, watching someone you love get the crap beat out of them? Not having children of her own, it was difficult to imagine.
Holding a washcloth under the cold water until her hands were numb, she put the cloth over her face and breathed in deeply. It didn’t help the tinnitus but her stomach wasn’t churning as much and that was a good thing. Deciding not to invite anyone to this particular pity party, she finished wiping her face and grabbed the bottle of mouthwash from under the sink. Taking a swig and swishing around in her mouth, she reminisced about all the money she had spent on dental work over the years. “Yep, my contribution to the longitudinal study after stomach stapling – do not brush your teeth after vomiting” she smiled inwardly. Combining the deteriorating enamel with the lousy dental genetics, well, it was what some would consider a small fortune. Would she have done it all over again?
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