Not Much of a Puking This Morning

I saw my acupuncturist yesterday, finally, for the first time for at least a month. I kept planning to go, then getting a sinus infection (note—a recognizable illness! Such a relief! Even though it sucked!), then having other tests or seeing other practitioners, or any number of other excuses. But I finally found an appointment time I could keep, and off I went to Fremont. I even drove myself—that is, operated the car and decided where I should turn and where I should park and when to turn off the lights (i.e. when you turn off the car). I did take the elevator up to the second floor at my destination though, only feeling slightly guilty about that. I mean, I look perfectly fit and, let’s face it, fabulous, so it appeared to be just laziness that had me waiting outside the lift for a 10-foot ride.

Anyway, Christian really did it up. I don’t know which needles went where, per se, except that I had some in my feet and lower legs, some in my abs, and some very, very small ones lining my ribcage over my liver, but I felt better when I was done. I had the energy to go to the grocery store (miso and fruit sodas—things to restore my electrolyte balance; and various greens tablets—to make my body alkaline again because right now it’s very acidic), and I was even pretty lively last night. (Note: 27 Dresses is a bad movie.)

And this morning I threw up a lot less. I’m not sure what that means—I feel like I heaved and coughed just as much, but not much of anything came out (what did come out was yellow bile). And yet, I don’t feel less well that usual right now, as if, regardless, I purged what I needed to purge.

I have found that when my stomach feels better, there’s a lot I can still do that doesn’t seem to affect my lung capacity too much—housecleaning, gardening, cooking, laundry . . .

Wait. Do I really want to feel well to be a housewife?