An hour or so later, he's drying heaving in the bathroom as he cleans up my partially digested quiche on the bathroom floor so I can return to bed. I mostly missed the rug.
Jared plays bedside songs on the ukelele about ships on rough (digestive) seas. He drives me to work very early Saturday morning so I can set up a registration table and thankfully leave it to four very kind volunteers. He delivers peach juice and RC Cola to my bedside and dumps another blanket on me.
I missed his work's annual fundraiser and the opportunity to dance to a friend's rock 'n roll band and eat grassfed beef barbeque (doesn't sound so great right now, but the quarter slice of toast and cream cheese for breakfast was quite hearty).
I did learn that mint is a diaphoretic - having a sip of weak tea made me hot and sweaty... and then throw up. I also lost my stomach after a strong mint tea earlier that morning. Coincidence?
Then there's the quiche... I don't think it has any relationship to the egg foo young I threw up in Rahway as a child. My mother remembers it with a laugh allowed only by distance, "You remember that?" she asks me. "That was disgusting."