My Hero

Of late late I have been "digestively unstable" and I finally asked the ol'doc-in-law about it. Turns out, I have probably picked up a bug and the ol' doc suggested a 24 hour liquids-only fast to starve the little jerks hanging out in my intestine into submission.

To most people, this wouldn't be much trouble, but I can hear the groan of sympathy coming from my Sister's Husband now. Dominic knows all too well that a Macdonald woman without food is a scary beast indeed. We can lash out without warning both with vicious words and any limb that is within striking distance.

Throughout the day, I avoided letting my inner beast randomly attack those around me with a strict policy of avoidance. Poor James lives with me and had to take the brunt of it, and did so with a level of bravery and stoicism usually only seen in romance novels involving pirates or white steeds. He even bypassed the free pastries at a chemistry talk in the afternoon just to share in my misery. (I would not have been so nobel as to pass on free pastries, especially those yummy croissant shaped poppyseed ones. Mmmmm. Hungry...)

By 9 pm last night, all I could do was lay on the couch, watch TED talks and plaintively ask what time it was every fifteen minutes. When my fast was over, I ate a bowl of cous cous since not eating ironically causes nausea. There I was listlessly shoveling food in my mouth on a stool in the kitchen as James fussed around me like a mother hen, handing me apricots and glasses of water. Once my tummy felt less empty, I promptly shuffled to the next room and went to sleep. James tucked me in.

Then he went back to the kitchen and washed my cous cous bowl for me. My Hero.