Tempting the Fates

I tempted the Vomit Fates.

I knew better, but I did it anyway.

The Vomit Fates won.

Last Thursday, as I manned the wheel of the 15 passenger van and took 2 of 8 to her Nationals competition for dance, I decided to repost a little clinical work I had done in the field of Vomitolgy. I extolled the three personality types I have seen in my work as a Clinical Vomitologist.

I gambled with a well-known principal in Vomitology. And I paid.

Because that well-known principal in Vomitology is this: should you talk about vomit, should you tell some of your favorite vomit stories, or should you, heaven forbid, naively say, "Wow, we've gone a long time without someone getting some kind of tummy bug!", you have just set yourself up for a puke fall.

Ker-splash.

Late Friday night/Saturday morning, when I was just getting my REM sleep on, 4 of 8 staggered into the guest room where I was staying. She wanted me to know that she felt sick and couldn't sleep. I thanked her for this field missive and issued the universal law of Vomitology: Take thy queasy self, take thy pillow, and lay thineself upon the cooling tile of the bathroom. And do not move. And don't wake thy mother again unless there is something...substantial to report.

She nodded, removed herself from my sleeping chamber, my heavy eyes succumbing to the pull of the sand man.

She was back, 20 minutes later.

Her status had not changed. She still felt queasy. She still couldn't sleep.

I repeated the Universal Law of Vomitology.

She made her exit.

I drifted off again.

Until sometime later, I heard the sound of pounding feet running across the floor of the room above me.

Not good.

At this point, 2 of 8 appeared at my guest room door. It seems that 4 of 8 had also been making forays into the room where 2 of 8 was staying, the same 2 of 8 who would be dancing all day and competing for the top slots in the nation with her dance company. 4 of 8 had been standing over 2 of 8, telling her for the third time that she didn't feel well when all that queasy promise came to fruition and she had to make a run for the bathroom.

That same bathroom she had been told to park herself in and not come out of.

Yeah, that bathroom.

She almost made it.

Mostly.

She left some gastric signature on the carpet at the threshold.

And all over the tile.

And all over the commode.

At three in the morning.

No wonder my short term memory has a limp.

But because I did have to enter the Vomitolgy Lab again this weekend, I have been able to further expand my research and add to my original three Vomit Profiles of The Martyr, The Denier and The Jedi Master this fourth category:

The Social Vomiter.

This individual is one who simply won't vomit alone, who can't stand the isolation of a cold bathroom floor. If she's going to hurl, she wants a congregation of sympathizers, professional pukers, if you will, to keep her company. Things to watch for with this unique personality are multiple violations of the Universal Law of Vomitology. You will want to insure that you take measures to contain the Social Vomiter in an environment that somehow makes her part of the larger social action without sacrificing your carpet...or your host's carpet, as was my case.

The beauty of the study of Vomitology is that it is such a fluid science, pun intended. One of my readers has further expanded our understanding of this unique research with this comment:

Janet of Confessions of a Former Ag Major writes:
I laughed all the way through your post! We're so lucky to have two jedi masters and only one martyr. One of my friends has a new term to add to your study, "vomitophobe." She says she can't ride the Kamikaze at the fair because she is a vomitophobe. I'm sure she'd be flattered if you used her term in some future study.

Vomitophobe.

I love it.