A couple of weeks ago, we made a special road trip to visit old friends and someone very special to me. The trip took us back to our college town—again! After just being there this past fall for the first time in YEARS.

You see, my favorite, most influential and awesome professor, mentor and friend, Ann—that’s a lot of words to describe her, huh? It’s still insufficient—has cancer. She was diagnosed in late 2013/early 2014, had chemo and radiation, and was in remission. We actually met up with her for drinks when we were back in town overnight in the fall, and she was great. She was in amazing spirits, as she always has been, and she looked fantastic. Life was good!

But a month or so ago, my good friend from college, Rich, got in touch with me to let me in on some really bad news. When we all grew up and graduated, Rich got a job on campus at our alma mater so he never left. He is my connection back to the good ol’ days, keeping me updated on the latest with the school and professors. Anyway, as you might guess—Ann’s cancer is back. And unfortunately, what started as a tumor in her thigh (she has soft tissue sarcoma, a very rare type of cancer) had spread to her lungs. Her condition is unfortunately considered terminal. She has been given approximately 20 months to live.

The news was and continues to be devastating. Truthfully, I am still processing it. Because she’s not someone that I see or talk to every day, or even every week, it’s kind of surreal. I don’t know that it has quite sunk in.

A few weeks back, one of our other college friends, Corrie, got wind that Ann had been asked to speak as part of the opening ceremonies at the college’s Relay for Life. Very quickly, Rich, Corrie and I pulled together and decided that we would show up there to surprise and support her. We made plans to stay overnight at Rich’s house, we had T-shirts made, we packed up our families (we have SIX GIRLS between us!) and off we went on a beautiful Saturday afternoon.

The drive takes us about two hours, and as we were getting close, Nora started to complain about her stomach hurting. It is unusual for her, but still, we didn’t think too much of it. We managed to get to Rich’s house without issue, and after a few whiny minutes once we got there, she perked right up and played with Rich’s girls. We never heard another peep out of her the rest of the afternoon and evening regarding her stomach, and in fact, we marveled at how quickly she warmed up and how well she hit it off with each of Rich’s and Corrie’s eldest daughters.

We attended the beginning of the Relay for Life and managed to adequately surprise Ann. It was a wonderful afternoon, which gave way to a great evening. Ann and one of our other former professors came back to Rich’s house afterward and we ordered pizza and had beer and reminisced like crazy. It was a GREAT day. Just really, really fun and happy… despite the circumstances which brought us together. It was good for the soul.

Things did take a pretty significant turn, however. Extremely minor relative to cancer, of course, but still… not the way we wanted to end our day together.

The evening got quieter once Corrie and her husband and their two girls left, then even quieter as we tucked in children and let them drift off to sleep. We relaxed with a couple beers and conversation, and things wound down even further. But around 10:30, I heard Nora suddenly calling me, panicked, over the monitor. I opened the door to the room in which we were staying and before I even turned on the light, Nora said, “I throwed up.”

Those aren’t words any parent ever wants to hear, right?

It was ALL.OVER.HER. Michael picked her up and whisked her to the bathroom to shower her, and I dragged her air mattress out of the room (Vivienne was still sleeping in there!) to strip it and clean it off.

Poor Nora. AND OH MY GOD, OUR POOR FRIENDS. It’s bad enough when your own kid is puking, but it’s even worse when someone else’s kid is puking… in YOUR house. God bless Rich and Katie, though, because they were amazing about it. We threw laundry in their washer, we borrowed a pair of extra pajamas for Nora, etc. Nora vomited several more times 20-30 minutes later, but thankfully in the toilet. We briefly considered packing up everything and heading home right then and there (it was around 11-11:30 p.m.) but because Vivienne was still sleeping peacefully, we decided to stick it out. Michael went into the room we were all supposed to stay in to sleep, and I stayed out in the living room with Nora on the air mattress, me on the couch. We wanted to be closer to the bathroom in case she needed to get sick again.

We all went to bed.

Even though we weren’t in the same room, we were close, and I could’ve sworn that at some point in the darkness of the middle of the night, I heard a distinct cough/choke—you parents know the sound—come from Vivienne and Michael’s room, but I was still mostly sleeping. I waited for the cry but it didn’t come, so I think I drifted back off.

Next thing I know, Michael is standing in the doorway with Vivienne, saying “Heather. Vivi threw up.”

BECAUSE OF COURSE SHE DID. I checked my phone. It was 3:30 a.m.

We stripped her down and threw her in the shower as Nora continued to sleep. She hated it, she cried. We worked as quickly as possible to avoid waking up the whole house. After she was out of the shower and clothed again, she was actually in pretty good spirits. Except she was very clearly not going to go back to sleep. Michael and I looked at each other and just said, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

It took us some time to not only pack up our stuff, but CLEAN EVERYTHING. Of course, the ONE TIME we didn’t bring our own pack-n-play somewhere was the ONE TIME that our kid threw up all over it. We scrubbed everything, we threw more laundry in the washing machine, Michael loaded the car. We woke Nora and got her dressed so we weren’t stealing the borrowed pajamas.

Somehow, through all of this, Rich and Katie nor their children ever woke up. We left them a note. And $80. We owed Rich $30 for the T-shirts anyway and then we wanted to pitch in for the pizza. But as Michael was taking money out of his wallet, I looked at him and with half a laugh, I said, “Leave them everything we have.” Because seriously, there was not enough money to repay them for what we had just done to their house. And for the germs we had brought with us.

We were on the road at 4:30 a.m. for the two-hour drive back home.

WORST.SLEEPOVER.EVER. I would say that I’m sure we’ll never be invited back except that we have been already. Rich and Katie, they’re saints, I’m telling you.

We’ve been assured that no one from Rich’s nor Corrie’s families ever got the bug. And actually, Michael and I never got it, either. By some miracle. Despite the fact that Vivienne threw up ALL OVER ME on Sunday afternoon. That’s right—we somehow made it the whole drive without any puke (THANK GOODNESS) but Nora threw up again as soon as we walked in the door (she headed straight to the bathroom). We all went back to bed for a few hours, and Vivienne literally slept for like 6-7 hours even after we got home. When we finally got her up in the afternoon, she was asking to eat so we gave her a plain frozen waffle and some water. An hour or so later, I was wearing it when she uncontrollably vomited all over me as I snuggled her.

MY POOR KIDS. All in all, it took us a good 4-5 days to kick the bug, even though the vomiting portion only lasted about 36 hours.

During this whole debacle, it was horribly embarrassing and we felt super awful for having this all happen at our friends’ house. Obviously, it would’ve been way better for everyone involved if we had been at home. But I’ll tell you what—it’s a story that we’ll all be telling for years to come! We all laughed that we had all experienced our fair share of puke at college, but not like this! :)

Any other good child puke stories out there? Where’s the worst place your kid has thrown up? Commiserate with me, eh?

Editor’s Note: After publishing this, my mom pointed out that this is similar to—yet still very different from—another memorable parenting moment involving children and their bodily substances. If you haven’t yet read THIS STORY, you should. You’re welcome.

 

5 Responses to F@*# Cancer. And the Stomach Bug.

  1. Allison F. says:

    Ugh, puking is no fun. My step-daughter had diarrhea ALL OVER my aunt’s bathroom at a birthday party. That was my first officially introduction to the grossness of mommyhood.

  2. Mom says:

    This is right up there with the Mexico arrival story… Oh man

  3. Katherine says:

    I’m so sorry to hear about your professor. My husband and I have an old professor the we have kept in touch with who has stage 4 lung cancer. And he was never a smoker. But I guess he grew up during the days when 2nd hand smoke was everywhere. It’s especially hard on my husband – he was an important mentor for him.

    My best puke story is when my oldest was about 18 months old and I was about 25 weeks pregnant with our second. She had been puking and refusing to eat or drink for about a day. I had to go to labor and delivery to be monitored for something. While they were waiting for me she perked up and my husband unfortunately let her eat all the goldfish crackers she wanted. You can probably guess where this is going. Fortunately she held off till we got home. But she absolutely coated her room in neon orange puke that night. That was the last of the puke but it was followed the next day by mega-diarrhea. I saved my husband’s frantic voicemail to me at work about how it shot out of both legs of her diaper and it was everywhere and WHERE ARE YOU WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING YOUR PHONE. Epic I tell you.

  4. Erica says:

    So sorry to hear about the sad prognosis for your dear friend/mentor. Cancer really blows. So unfair. What great supporters you and your friends are, however!

    My puke story isn’t so much about the where as the when. 4 days prior to my scheduled c-section with my younger child, my older one, who was 2 at the time, woke us up in the middle of the night throwing up. He was really only “sick” for about 3 hours on and off but of course refused to go back to sleep after all that. We don’t know if he had a bug or something just upset his tummy because he was his regular chipper self from about 3am on. No biggie, I thought. As long as no one else gets sick (hmmm puking in the OR sounds fun) and we can kind of catch up on sleep before our delivery in 4 days, we’ll be good.

    WRONG. The night before our 8am scheduled c-section, he woke up sick AGAIN! Shame on me for thinking “this time” I will at least go into the birthing experience fully rested (the first time around, I began labor with our older son at midnight and labored for 26 hours before they called for the section). On top of that worrying about having to leave him when he was sick to be gone for 3 days. I called my mom at 1am and asked if she could skip work and come to our house that morning instead of picking him up from daycare later. So we were up all night. Again. And he was fine by 6am. Again. We drove to the hospital half asleep to prepare for the next happiest moment of our lives. Needless to say, we didn’t catch up on sleep while hospitalized because, you know, those places aren’t known for encouraging rest. Neither are newborns. All was well, ha!

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