Man vs Woman vs Being sick

Newcastle night (4) copy

Ah dad...

In the dark hours of last night I suddenly woke up with the realisation that my lovely wife was not in bed beside me.  The emptiness must have called out to my conscious mind… I sat up, listened and heard some grovelling from the bathroom.  I called and she replied faintly.  It wasn’t an ogre.  (Note to Oscar Pistorius , this is how normal people do it, we call out, then wait for a reply.  No guns required).

My wife was sick, and not the feminine flu kind of sickness, she had a full force puke-a-thon-thing going.  Liquids were leaving her body from all known orifices and then some.  There was no choice in the matter, she was competing in some twisted version of a relay; racing between the bathroom and our bed.  All. Night. Long.

When I woke up I could feel the Sandman’s residue didn’t dissolve properly and I was left with scratchy, blotchy, red eyes.  My wife didn’t look any better.  She…

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