My birthday is October 29th, and I'll be turning 22. I don't have any big plans for my birthday, only that I hope it certainly turns out better than my 20th birthday. That was the birthday from hell, the birthday that will go down in infamy.
It started out innocently enough. My birthday was a Sunday, so on Saturday I was taken out to eat, had a a great dinner at an Italian restaurant, had cake and presents, etc. On my actual birthday, my sister cooked a big lunch for me, and for dinner I had the leftovers from the Italian place. Everything was fine until I went to bed that evening. I suddenly began to feel sick to my stomach. Part of my dinner had been leftover cheese sticks, which had been coated very heavily in herbs. As I was trying to go to bed, I could not get the taste of those cheese sticks out of my mouth. My stomach was rolling, and I kept revisiting those cheese sticks in my head, and the next thing I knew I was in the bathroom on my knees vomiting.
Around the same time on the other side of my house, my brother-in-law was getting sick too. My sister had come to check on me after hearing me in the bathroom, and told me that Stephen was throwing up. I told Alli that I though I would be fine, that it was just my supper not settling well in my stomach. I seriously thought I was all better. I was wrong.
The rest of the night passed in a haze, as I tried to go to sleep but couldn't for my stomach pains. I remember losing count of how many times I had thrown up, and sitting on my bed with a trash can next to me because I couldn't make it to the bathroom. Stephen was throwing up so much that he called his parents to come take him to the hospital, leaving my sister to stay home to take care of me and my nephew. Alli eventually got sick as well, but she wasn't throwing up--she was running to the bathroom with other issues.
The next day my aunt, God bless her, came to take care of us. I did absolutely nothing but lay in the bed and try to sleep, drinking nothing but Gatorade. On Halloween, I was feeling better but still wasn't one hundred percent. It was the first Halloween of my life that I haven't wanted to eat candy. Not only did I not have candy, but I couldn't even eat any more of my birthday cake, which was disappointing, because it had been damn good.
To this day we're still not sure what made us all sick. We're thinking something may have been wrong with the meat that my sister cooked for lunch, because otherwise how could we have all gotten sick at the same time? I really don't think my leftovers were tainted even though they were all I could think about as I was vomiting; because of this, I have refused to eat at the Italian restaurant since that day.
My 21st birthday was miles above my barfy 20th; let's hope the streak continues to my 22nd, because I really don't want to end the night with my head in the toilet.
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