It was late one Halloween night. The goblins had all come and gone. The girls had compared loot and talked about their experiences. The candles inside our jack o’ lanterns had flickered out and everyone was asleep. Our dog Nick, a black lab who’d never grown up, decided he wanted in on the Halloween treats. He ate all of the girl’s loot. Every last piece of the candy was quietly consumed. Sometime later that night as his stomach became upset he sought shelter in Carly’s room. She was in preschool at the time. In the darkness of her room he began to puke. Immediately screams of freight erupted and late night mayhem ensued. The sound of Nick’s Halloween lurching would torment Carly for years. After the incident we had to rearrange her room so that furniture covered the area where the event occurred. There wasn’t a physical stain, but there was a mental one. Changing the view somehow made a difference. Once we moved her furniture around and made sure the dog slept in another room we were able to reclaim our room and once again there was peace at night.
Some people are better at coping with sickness than others. As parents we are forced to deal with it. I mean you can’t just move every time someone pukes and misses the intended target. Someone has to play janitor and remedy the situation. The vom episode as Carly now calls it has shaped her tolerance for the hurl. I’d say her threshold is somewhere south of extremely low. If she was married and starting a family today she would give the janitorial supplies to her husband and say, “Congratulations you’ve been selected.” As Murphy’s Law would have it, Carly’s younger sister Grace is a world champion barfer. So every year when school is back in session, the weather cools, and stomach bugs begin to sweep the nation, Grace’s number is called, and Carly does the, Serenity Now, chant until the storm passes and the sun prevails. I’ve never seen someone so susceptible to stomach flues. Luckily Carly, Keely, and I have pretty strong immune systems. So the bugs Grace brings home seem to bounce off us more often than not. However this year, we also have grand kids in the picture. They brought over something wicked. Forget the fact that we washed hands like we were OCD, we’re fit, and that we get more than our recommended dose of fruits and veggies. None of that mattered. This bug had claws or tentacles or little fists that grabbed us by the hair and pulled us kicking and screaming to the porcelain god. Like an Olympic relay team we passed the baton to each family member and Grace ended up being the anchor of the team. Apparently it gained some steam as it reached her. The day I had it I received a call from the school nurse saying Grace had it too. I couldn’t walk to the kitchen without falling down in a pile of sweat. So I phoned a friend who donned her hazmat suit and picked Grace up from school.
This semester Carly doesn’t have classes on Monday. The night before, as we watched the Payton less Colts flop on Sunday night football, she made the comment that it was too bad that she would be home alone on her day off. Twelve hours later when Grace came home and hurled she took it all back. She was in hell. Halloween came flashing back…again and again every hour on the hour all day long. Grace doesn’t just vom. She goes at it with a decibel level that is slightly less than lightning strikes, airport noise, and indoor concerts. Relatives in California hear the sound, recoil, and call to make sure she’s alright. Combine that with the fact she never hits the target and you get the picture of what it’s like…all…day…long! Carly weighed her options. Her friends were all in classes. She saw me in the fetal position in my room. I could have emerged to lay sick on the couch instead, but she didn’t ask, so I didn’t offer. She could have fled to Starbucks, but she didn’t. She stayed, found her happy place above the gaging…serenity now…serenity now!!!…and helped her sister. That evening after Keely came home from the ER to find her home had been turned into a vomitorium she and Carly laughed about the episode as they sanitized the house. She’d taken a step. It took 17 years and a hurling sister to begin to exercise the demons of that Halloween night when her dog had one too many at the Snicker Bar.