Food Poisoning?

With a bedtime of 11 p.m. last evening, I was in decent shape when my 3:30 a.m. cellphone alarm chimed. I had at the last minute opted to set it a half hour earlier than written about in yesterday's post.

It was barely after 4 a.m. when I was outside and on my way to the elementary school playground maybe three blocks away after having registered at 188/189 pounds while fully clothed and in what I believe are the very boots I had on when first I incurred this damned plantar fasciitis (or whatever else is amiss) with my left foot by forcing some pavement jogging in order to reduce my time during a five-mile+ walk.

The boots are anywhere from 20 - 30 years old ─ I have four similarly aged boots; but rather than discard them because I cannot afford to replace them, I have continued to wear them on my early a.m. walks. I would never wear them publicly in the day, nor if I was going to a store or anything like that ─ they are clearly decrepit. But I have kept recycling among them on these walks rather than wear out the two pairs of boots I bought in late 2022 ─ those two are my "good" boots that I use for public presentation.

My wife and my weakness to deny her have prevented me from being able to buy any newer footwear.

And so it must be over four weeks now since I have been able to have my long walks, for my disablement presented itself back around November 27. And I utterly hate it!

As soon as I began my leisurely walk just after 4 a.m. today, my foot was sensitive, but I did not push nor tax it with any foolish abuse. Everything was wet outside from earlier rain.

At the school playground even the metal support bars were wet, so of course I needed to use a bandana to wipe a jungle gym monkey bar as dry as was serviceable.

Still wearing my jacket, I began with two sets of pull-ups (5-3), then two sets of chin-ups (3-3), and then two sets between a pair of gymnastics-style rings (2-2). I always have a 30-count between sets.

Then it was back to the monkey bars for a further set of two pull-ups between two of the bars; and after the final pull-up there, I held a loose hang for nigh a 50-count. Those certainly do stretch the back as well as the shoulders and arms, for when I let go, my initial steps are most awkward because I feel almost as if I have been released from a torture stretching device.

I made my way over to a cement ramp and squeezed out 10 slow full-range decline push-ups to finish my exercising.

Note that my youngest stepson was up when I left home, and still up when I returned. His ailing mother was still shut up in her bedroom with the light on ─ just prior to me retiring last night, I had looked in on her because she had left her door ajar. She asked from her bed that I fully close the door, but to leave the light burning.

My eldest stepson was apparently scheduled at 6 a.m. for a 12-hour shift at Tree Island Steel, so he was to rise in the neighbourhood of 4:45 a.m., I believe. At that point, I shut myself up into my bedroom until he had left.

My own return to bed was just past 6 a.m.

It is most annoying, but of late both of my ears now plug up when I am lying in bed. It used to be that only my right ear was the problem. Between that and tinnitus, I just cannot understand why the Almighty will not deliver me from having to live under the environmental conditions that I do at 75 years of age.

My morning was to begin somewhere around 9:15 a.m. when ─ despite my plugged ears ─ I came to suspect that my younger brother was downstairs watching T.V. (I had left my bedroom door ajar just to help make me privy of such a development).

After I soon enough joined him and quickly was given his invitation to begin operating our Android TV Box, I started us off with an 11-minute (11:57) video uploaded two days ago to YouTube's AnitaK channel: John Rustad to release report on what they found during BC Election.

Said report might get released mid-January, and Anita believes it may finally reveal that John Rustad and his B.C. Conservative party are going to openly claim some election fraud, for they have been peculiarly silent about the matter of their unexpected loss at the hands of an NDP government that most British Columbians did not seem to want.

After this video, I sampled three others on BitChute, but none were of sustaining interest and thus I shut all of them down.

Instead, I resorted to previously recorded fare and thus we were to enjoy an episode of the decade-long old British T.V. series Sherlock Holmes.

We are beginning with the original series The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, and this time watched episode two ("The Dancing Men"). At 54 minutes (54:16), my source was published January 7, 2024, to BitChute's Adaneth_TV channel: Sherlock Holmes (TV Series 1984) | The Dancing Man (S01-E02).

Following the entertainment, my brother returned to his bedroom for some rest. As this was my Sabbath fast, I did not need to remain up much longer myself. But I could not ignore my concern over my wife whose bedroom light was still on behind her closed bedroom door ─ it was now over 12 hours since I closed that door last evening.

So I quietly opened her door to assess if she was still breathing, and was about to shut off the light. She then wearily opened her eyes and seemed to indicate that doing so was okay, but she said nothing.

My fast always leaves me excessively weak and tired. Even though it may have only been somewhere in the noon hour, I went back to bed and remained there until possibly nearly 3:30 p.m.

To my great surprise, my wife was gone. She must have felt that she could not continue missing work at the Thai restaurant where she is employed part-time.

I worked on this post until it was finally dark, and then went downstairs to finish off a big pot of a dull beef soup my wife had prepared midday Friday. There was a lot of liquid to drink down, but only a little meat remaining. No vegetables or grains or legumes had been cooked in the soup ─ just some sliced ginger, maybe some onion, a little possible bay leaf, and some stems of lemon grass and even something else that was very thorny.

But there were some fresh vegetables still on the countertop ─ a few radishes and their tops, a green onion stem, and a fair bit of green basil. In my role as the family dog expected to eat everything of my wife's cooking that no one else will, I did leave alone another similar soup that had a couple of big fatty hunks of pork ─ I just put that pot into the fridge.

I decided to watch a Christmas movie to justify some drinking, so using our Android TV Box, on T.V. I located a very good source for 2018's Christmas in Evergreen: Letters to Santa. My source was this OK.ru link.

My plan was to have at least one shot of Captain Morgan Dark Rum to give me an immediate hit, and then work my way through two cans of Cariboo Malt (7.9% alcohol) and maybe even another shot of alcohol if my meal seemed to be too much of a watery buffer.

Well, maybe 15 minutes into the movie my stomach began to feel suspicious. I had been taking small swallows of the rum such that it would require maybe five helpings or sips to finish it.

But this internal malaise gradually worsened. The movie was over half done and I was still working on drinking that one shot of rum. It was getting to the point where I seriously considered closing down the movie and seeking the refuge of my bedroom ─ something was seriously amiss with me.

I did finally open a can of beer in the vain hope that its carbonation would prove of benefit, but this did not turn out to be the case. I endured through to the movie's conclusion, but had barely drunk any of the beer. In truth, I wasted the movie, for it had become impossible to lose myself emotionally into it ─ I was too ill and concerned.

Yet I know I otherwise would have probably given it high ratings, for I was very much enjoying lead actress Jill Wagner. I loved her husky laugh, and she looks darned good in tight jeans!

Blogger's labels verify for me that I have enjoyed her in at least one previous Christmas movie. And this movie had two of the stars from the T.V. series Chesapeake Shores ─ specifically, Barbara Niven, who played the O'Brien brood's mother, Megan O'Brien; and one of her O'Brien sons, budding lawyer Connor O'Brien, as played by Andrew Francis.

Such a shame that I could not enjoy the movie!

Once it was done, I basically came directly to my bedroom and my bed, and lay there in a bid to lose myself in slumber, hoping that if that was successful, I would find myself to have passed the critical point. Notions of puking had been presenting themselves.

I had probably gotten to bed around 8 p.m., and some sleep did attend. But awhile later, there was no further delaying a visit to the toilet ─ all the more necessary before one of my stepsons occupied it, or my wife returned home and did the same.

Initially in the bathroom I just felt miserable, unsure what I needed to be doing. However, this was fast becoming apparent. I barely managed to get seated when the diarrhea struck. Recognizing what would become a dire predicament if I did not have something to puke into, I had the foresight to have on hand a small plastic bag ─ the sort markets have on rolls for people to put fruit or produce into.

It was intact ─ no holes; and boy, did I ever start hurling a noxious gruel of vomit into that bag!

All well and good, but I began feeling very helpless. I managed to rise once, but was immediately seized with an incredible vertigo that was almost frightening. I sat back down on the toilet to escape the dizziness. But there I was trapped, unable to easily stand, and with this plastic bag of copious puke in hand

The stench of my own diarrhea and the puke was appalling even to me ─ I could barely bear being present, and wanted escape.

Trembling from this ordeal, I eventually made several flushes of diarrhea; then rose and poured the bulk of my puke into the toilet to also flush away. Fortunately in all respects, I had never made a mess.

Although exceedingly unsteady, I dressed and made my way back to my bedroom and my bed, and there I remained until finally checking the time at nearly 3:30 a.m. Sunday.

The worst was over, and I primarily just felt sleepy because caffeine withdrawal was still in force ─ I had not had a coffee since Friday afternoon.

I finished my blog post, for I had not gotten farther than the discussion of Sherlock Holmes. Once I had felt myself to need to pass a little wind, but there was more than wind seeking exit. Thankfully, I avoided a mess and had a further bowel evacuation of the diarrhea.

Other than that, I feel practically normal for a pre-dawn Sunday. Nevertheless, I resisted having a coffee. I want to return to bed for more sleep to escape the brain fog and listlessness.

It is 5:58 a.m., but I will be predating the publication time of this post, since it primarily involves yesterday (Saturday). I will make a separate post for today (Sunday).