That’s one nickname for it, the Technicolor yawn. Another name is to pray to the holy god of porcelain. If you do it in Disney World, they call it a rainbow or a protein spill.
But for a couple of days last week … I had a seriously upset stomach. I could not hold ANYTHING down. Not even water.
And when you have a busted ankle and you’re confined to bed except for emergency trips on your little knee scooter to the bathroom … it’s tough.
Luckily, I had a garbage can next to the bed, and when the nausea hit, I was able to roll over and … well, I don’t have to get too graphic.
But it was a nasty, virulent 48-hour stomach bug, and even today it’s left me very weak.
I have absolutely no idea where I picked it up. Maybe it’s from the inactivity of my normally active body.
Thankfully, the 48-hour bug seemed to have checked out at hour 49.
Now comes the part where I work my way back to solid foods.
Diet ginger ale to settle the tummy. Jell-O. Maybe even some beef broth. Then I can work towards a buttered slice of toast.
I have to get my strength up. This is not easy.
But I’ve gotten past the worst of this ankle injury. Going from a splint to at least a removable walking boot. But I still need to take care of myself. I can’t let the poisons and bugs and viruses infect me. Not now.
I know the one thing that could have cured this ailment. My Grandma Betty’s chicken soup.
Because if you have a sainted Jewish grandmother, they can make chicken soup and that taste treat would cure anything. Grandma Betty made hers with store-bought alphabet pasta, and some chopped up carrots and celery. But that’s really all I know about it, I don’t truly have the full recipe.
Trust me, at this point I’ll chug down a can of Campbell’s if it would help me get back on the balance.
But if there’s any blog readers who have an old family recipe for chicken soup laying around … please send it to me. Once I get it made, I could even turn it into a “Bachelor Cooking” segment on this blog.
For the moment, though, I’m hoping to slowly bring my tummy back to a normal balance. One step at a time.
Ha. One step at a time, the man with the broken ankle says. 😀