The Streak

On the afternoon of 6th April, as I was hugging the porcelain throne, I wasn’t thinking about how crappy I felt, or how I would feel after. I had two thoughts running through my head; ‘Dammit, the streak is over’; and Seinfeld:

A couple of days before, I had been at work, telling my co-workers how our toddler and Lauren both had norovirus and had been sick (for those not in the UK, ‘sick’ means ‘throw up’). Lauren seemed to get over her sickness in about 24 hours; the toddler was sick today - 5 days going for him, so far.

I followed up by saying that I was fairly certain I had not been sick this century. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I think I had not been sick as an adult, which goes back to 1994. The only sickness I have strong memory of was when we lived in Nigeria (we moved from Nigeria in 1988). Now, I’m sure I must have been sick at some point since 1988, and even 1994, but I have no memory of it. Lauren has never remembered me being sick either, and I met her in 2003. 

So on the afternoon of 6th April, I couldn’t believe the streak had come to an end. Although I have bragged about not getting ill very much, our toddler was able to do something no one else could, from long before he was born. He was able to get me to break my vomit streak; thanks, little guy. 

Today, 7th April, I don’t seem to have stomach issues, but am extremely lethargic and only able to stand for about 5 minutes at a time. I don’t do ill well, I think because I don’t have a sense of what it’s like to be ill, and even less sense of what it’s like to be sick.

Here’s to hoping I can start a new streak that lasts the rest of this century, or at least this decade.