A number of you e-mailed very nice notes of concern so this is a "short post" of the sort I always scream for every edition.
I don't know whether it was a virus or, as Rebecca believes, from whatever the police sprayed some of us with in DC.
Whatever it was, I am fine now.
Other than the non-stop barfing, what stands out to me most is how kind everyone was.
The first hurl landed at the feet of Betty, Rebecca and Elaine and while some of us (maybe even me?) might have reacted with sour looks, theirs were faces of concerns.
I only saw their faces for a second because suddenly I was on rapid fire vomiting. It was probably the fifth or sixth time before I came up for air.
C.I. immediately called a halt to the edition and Jim posted "Note" to explain we'd be late posting. A two hour break took place.
I know that any of those (wisely) using the time to sleep would have given it up if they'd known I wasn't able to sleep. Jim and C.I. got me into bed. (Others may have helped or accompanied me, my stomach was in so much pain, I don't remember.) Almost immediately, I started throwing up again and, though unable to make it to the bathroom, I did have the good sense to angle my projectile aim away from the bed and onto the floor. At some point, probably right after, I had a trash can beside the bed to throw up in. I have no idea how often I threw up but it seems like if I wasn't puking, Jim and C.I. were cleaning it or me up.
When the spell finally passed, my stomach was in such severe pain that I was curled up in a ball and unable to get to sleep. Jim was saying, "Let's get you to the emergency room." I didn't want to go. I just wanted to go to sleep.
But it hurt so bad.
Next thing I knew, C.I. had Jess' guitar and C.I. and Jim were serenading me to sleep. There was Carly Simon's "The Fisherman's Song," Jackson Browne's "These Days" and James Taylor's "Sweet Baby James." There were many others. Some I can't remember and some I was already fading into sleep on.
When I woke up, my eyes weren't yet focused and the hall seemed wobbly as I made it to the living room. Of course, I was the one wobbly, not the hall.
"What time is it?" I repeatedly asked.
We had thirty minutes until Jess, Ava, C.I. and Ty had to catch their flight back to California.
"Do we have the editorial!" I cried.
No, but we had almost everything else.
Looking at the list of what was finished or near completion, I saw that the gang had worked on quite well without me and I thank them for picking up my slack.
I thank everyone who wrote in wondering if I was okay. Unless I missed one, I responded to all of the e-mails on that by Wednesday of last week.