Okay. So you know that nightmare you always have that you are STUCK in a Chuck-E-Cheese Bathroom and can't leave? Oh you've never had that one? Weird.

So yesterday was my FIRST outing since my eye surgery. I promised my foster babies' relatives that I would meet them at Chuck E Cheese so all the kids could play together and they could visit. I'm seeing WAAAAY better now, but it still hurts to focus on things and I'm like a vampire in the sunlight. My eyes fry. BUT, Starling offered to drive us, since he had a CHOICE in the matter. (I am still NOT allowed to drive).

We showed up. It was great! The kids played; we played, I snapped some photos. We ate some delicious pizza... and then. I have NO idea WHAT happened to me.

All I know is I was talking to a lady and she was commenting on how COLD it was. She was rubbing her arms in her jacket. I was hearing her, but I was feeling that rush of heat one experiences before passing out. (And I'm VERY familiar with that lovely feeling, but I've figured out many ways to KEEP from passing out when I feel it). I sat down, tried to keep smiling and nodding. We were all out of coins and everyone was gathering their things.  And suddenly, I knew I was about to vomit.

AND that's when the fun began. I didn't KNOW it was my worst nightmare, until it happened. I WAS STUCK in Chuck-E-Cheese's bathroom puking out my guts. (I hate puking in toilets in general, but my face stuck to a PUBLIC toilet... omg...). And my entire body started sweating and swaying, and I got lethargic. And then I knew I was about to pass out. I envisioned it all playing out.

My head smacking the floor with little kid tee tee absorbing in my hair, my arms dangling out of the bottom of the locked stall like some horror film, and in walking a little kid, taking a quick pee before celebrating her birthday, and screaming over and over that she found a dead body. And ruining the Chuck-E-Cheese euphoria for all the little kids who heard the news.

So I couldn't let that happen; mainly my FACE touching a public restroom FLOOR. So I sat on the toilet and put my knees between my legs, slumped against the wall. Puked again. I must have been in there TWO HOURS! (But Starling said it was ONLY thirty minutes). And I kept telling myself, 'It'll pass in a minute and you can leave. You have to get it together.' But it never passed.

And people kept coming in and I am NOT a petite, quite little sick person. I sound like a swamp monster choking on a deer. And I know I was out of my head and I had to be moaning and groaning and saying I was going to die. I don't know.... I was BARELY hanging in there.

After an eternity of my face plastered against the wall trying to find a cold spot to place my forehead, a little voice says, "Um... Miss Wendi? Are you in here?"

I tried to sound normal. "yeeeee-aaaahhh..."

"Um... everyone is wondering what's taking so long...."

"Will you tell Mr. Starling that I can't stop puking and... I..." didn't get to finish that sentence.

So then Starling comes into the girls' restroom, which was probably thrilling for him, since ladies were walking in after him and wondering WHAT the freak he was doing in there.

He said, "Ok. I'll get the kids loaded, get you a bag, and we'll go."

Well, it took him another year and a half to load the kids, which was fine. I was just emptying out any other remnants of anything I'd eaten in the last month.

And then the manager, which just HAPPENS to go to church with me, came in the stall with me and literally held me. Such a sweet, brave woman.

Everyone that had come to visit my foster babies where waiting outside the bathroom. Just watching. It was UTTERLY HUMILIATING. My hair was caked to my head, my make-up, which I'm not supposed to wear for another week after eye surgery, was smeared in lines down my face. I said, "Sorry..." And left.

Blaine, which we officially adopted as Uncle Blaine, yesterday after he brought the kids pizza, had also joined STARLING for some competitive Chuck-E-Cheese Sports. Like who could ride the highest on the hot air balloon... (Yeah. Those men have proud wives).  He so kindly stayed with the kids so Starling could tend to me. AGAIN. (Like having the last WEEK to "deal" with me wasn't enough).

Starling said we'd go to immedicare, and I said, "I am WAY too SICK to go to the DOCTOR! TAKE ME HOME!" So I could puke in my OWN toilet. That is WAY less often cleaned and smells worse than Chuck-E-Cheese potty. But at least I could get out of my clothes.

I felt like my entire body was swelling up and my clothes were cutting off my circulation. I was stripping down to my birthday suit before we made it into the house good. And ITCHING; oh my gosh! I felt like I'd just bathed in bed bugs. And I started FREEZING. So I was putting my long fingernails to use and ripping my skin to shreds. I couldn't scratch enough surface area at once. Starling said, "uh... you have a rash from head to toe."

So then he ran me a hot bath, stuffed some pills in me, a Zyrtec being among them, and finally I stopped vomiting, stopped freezing, and the rash went away.

Unfortunately, that took until the end of the day. We were supposed to go to New Orleans again today for another post eye visit, but we didn't because Starling didn't get to work hardly AT ALL Tuesday.

I have no idea what I had an allergic reaction to; it wasn't anything I ate. So I'm thinking a spider bite. Because that's my other worst fear. And I'm a worst case scenario And it's happened before.

So today, I'm thankful for food. That stays where I put it. And a husband that missed his calling as a nursing home worker. I just hope I don't have to return the favor. I am SOOOO not Starling.