I’ve missed lots of times. I get migraines, and I vomit with them. If I wake up with one, I’ll barf just from sitting up in bed, sometimes just from rolling over. There’s no way I’ll make it out of the bedroom and down the hall.
I have a cheap plastic trashcan right by the bed for this very purpose.
If I have a really bad one, I’ll take my meds and get in the shower with the water on ‘scald’ and the massager set on ‘stun’ with it aimed right at the back of my neck.
Sometimes I’ll throw up in the shower, but it’s okay. It’s like throwing up in the sink - almost always no chunks. It’s just stomach bile. Nasty, slimey yellow stuff.
Thank you big time. You’ve my proved me point. You can’t always make it (all is you have to clean up after…unless you’re reallly really sick in which case someone hase to clean up after you…in which case you make it up to them later.)
Seems like a reasonable situation to me. And some very interesting stories…in which case keep them coming…err…the stories not the actual vomit.
I should have mentioned that with a migraine, I prefer to throw up in a sink over throwing up in the toilet.
Less bending over, less head-thobbing. Gross, I know, but anything to prevent anymore pain helps.
If I’m in the bed, I just roll over and lean over the plastic trash can.
If I’m near the bathroom or kitchen, I’ll throw up in the sink. No bending over that way.
With a migraine-barf, it never has chunks. It’s just stomach bile, slimey yellow goo.
I do clean it well afterwards. I pour a little diluted bleach down the drain and run the hot water.
Why is it that I can’t handle other people’s puke but I am vastly entertained by the stories in this thread? In fact, the more TMI, the more entertaining.
I can’t handle it when other people puke. It makes me want to myself. Fortunately my sweetie is fine about it, so if we have kids, he gets to deal with the puke. I can deal with anything else, but puking kids…gaaaah. Eww.
Same here. I’m getting a little better since I can now watch my cat barf or not get totally grossed out by watching people barf on TV (a requirement for a fan of “House”) but in real life–no way. If somebody else does it, I’m not far behind, which is why I make every effort to avoid situations where barfing might occur.
Kids? I’m very glad I’m childfree (in fact, my barfophobia is one (albeit quite minor) reason why I am childfree).
I had the Worst Flu on Earth 18 years ago and took some Tylenol Flu and Cough green liquid. I was standing over the kitchen sink and the moment the evil liquid hit my stomach it came back up. Unfortunately, I turned my head and barfed all over the clean dishes in the drainer rather than down the sink drain.
I haven’t been able to even SMELL TF&C since then without involuntary heaves occurring.
I tend to clench up when vomiting, so whenever I dont make it, I dont make it IN STYLE, teeth clenched, with vomit spewing out of the little gaps, flossing my teeth, with any that cant get through spraying out my nose. Man, theres nothing worse than a nose full of sick.
Ah, fuck it, while the tone is low…
There have been times in my adult life where i havent made it to the bathroom. There.
The most horrific of which was a curious detoxing accident. Let me explain in an Animaniacs Good Idea/ Bad Idea stlye.
Good Idea:
Drinking two litres of water a day to rid the body of toxins.
Bad Idea:
Drinking two litres of water in one go, several times a day.
Hey, I’m a child of the McDonalds generation. I want results, and I want them now.
And I got them, after what I thought was going to be a harmless little fart.
I didn’t have any experiences to add to this thread but I do have a few public puking stories. Thankfully not extremely bad but, well, judge for yourself… (in chronological order)
I was homeschooled for my 4th grade year. My family and I were at a small bookstore purchasing all of the textbooks my brother and I needed. As my parents were checking out, I puked all over their entrance rug. I remember I started to cry and said “I’m so sorry.” If I recall correctly, my dad pulled the rug outside the door and the manager said she was going to get a bucket of water. That’s the first time I remember puking in public.
Next…
After lunch in 6th grade I was in class doing my work and I never felt it coming. I didn’t even have time to react. I puked in my lap. The teacher came over with the trash can so I could empty the pile of puke off of my skirt into the trash can. I think I was about as far away as possible from the nurses office… but I made the shameful walk with my peanut butter sandwich and milk stained on my navy blue school skirt.
I don’t remember exactly how old I was for this next one…
My brother and I went to the mall to return a wrong sized gift to the Gap. There was a line at the counter so we browsed the store for a few minutes. I started to feel nauseated and I knew without a doubt I was going to hurl. I told my brother “I’m gonna puke.” He took the jeans out of the Gap back as fast as humanly possible and handed me the bag. In the front entrance to the store I let it out - in the Gap bag. The bag was plastic but I’d had soup for dinner and it started leaking out the bottom of the bag. I walked to the nearest trash can and threw my make-shift barf bag away. I avoided that store for a few months after that.
The most recent was last October. Mr Johnson and I went to the State Fair for food, fun and rides. I rarely eat pork because of the private, but just as unpleasant, vomitting moments. Mr Johnson convinced me to eat a corndog. I nearly ate the whole thing myself. For the rest of the afternoon, we walked around the fair, had a few more snacks, and rode several rides turning and inverting my stomach around.
Eventually we grew tired and left the fairgrounds to walk about a mile and a half back to where we parked. Once back to the car I sat down and relaxed. I felt fine for a little while and we decided we’d had enough junk food for one day and headed to subway for dinner.
Halfway there I became nauseated again and I was just praying that I wouldn’t vomit in his RX-7. As soon as the car stopped in the parking lot I got out and sat down on the curb. Less than a minute later I puked up what was undeniably the corndog. Of course I felt much better after that… though I was very embarrassed to be the first one of us to puke in front of the other.
For me, I usually manage to make it, but with a couple of notable exceptions:
I came down with a rather violent bout of gastroenteritis during my freshman year at college. After making the mistake of deciding I felt okay enough to eat a fairly sizable lunch, I was overcome with a wave of nausea as I left my first afternoon class. Thinking quickly, I darted around the corner of the building into what I thought was a secluded area with a nice hedge and some trees, and let fly. Only when I was finished heaving did I turn my head to the left and realize I was standing next to a floor-to-ceiling window, giving quite a show to all the other students walking from class to class in the building.
I was extremely hungry after my wisdom tooth removal, since I’d had nothing to eat since the previous midnight. Consequently, as soon as I got home, I downed a can of chocolate Ensure, and went to lie down. The post-anesthesia nausea came on practically without warning, but as my gorge rose, I clenched my jaw shut and ran for the bathroom. In the process, I discovered just how painful it was to try to hold a mouthful of puke with two freshly sutured incisions in my lower gums. I only made it as far as the sink.
I’ve always made it in a home-like environment, but school was a different story. In 6th grade, I packed a lunch and forgot the ice pack. Well, lunch was a mayo and Velveeta on Wonderbread sandwich and an overripe banana. Needless to say, I did not feel well after recess. My teacher was suspicous of the sudden onset and the coincidence with an English test when I told her I wasn’t feeling well. She prescribed the elemetary school standby of “put your head on your desk for awhile” which I did. I didn’t feel any better. After reading, she told me that I needed to take the English test. I told her that I wasn’t feeling better, but she insisted, and she was the teacher. About 3 minutes after sitting up, I got the first regurgitation effort. It was quickly followed by the second regurgitation attempt. I raised my hand and my teacher told me that I was going to take the test and I should stop complaining. So, on the third regurgitation attempt, I moved towards the nearest trashcan convienintly located behind the teacher’s desk and on the fouth regurgitaion attempt, I was not quite there. I projectile puked all over her purse and satchel and desk and cardigan and anything else within puking distance. Then she excused me to go downstairs and tell my mom I was sick and needed to go home. My sister said that the room reeked of half digested banana the rest of the afternoon because the teacher wouldn’t let anyone leave to tell the janitor that I had puked all over the place.
Fast forward to 7th grade where I was on an antibiotic that made me sick. Nobody would believe that it made me nauseous. I was in reading class and felt it coming. Instead of waiting for permission, I left. Unfortuantely, the bathroom was just a liiiitle too far away so I puked all over the stall instead of making it into the toilet. I finished, flushed, and got a drink at the drinking fountain on the way back to class. My teacher sort of looked at me and asked if I was OK. I said I was fine and life went on. Someone was nice enough to loan me a piece of gum, though.
Not personally, but I’ve been present when it happened.
Most memorable incident was when I was on my way home after a concert. It had been a really good concert – the world premiere of the Lord of the Rings symphony (based in the film music), with cast members and director present, and Viggo singing – and I wanted to remember it as a golden evening for the rest of my life.
Sitting in the bus as we trundled homeward. Late evening, Saturday night. A bunch of teenagers got on. They had obviously been drinking. One of them, a pudgy kid, looked somewhat the worse for wear. They sat down, and a couple of stops later, as the rest of the passengers watched, the pudgy kid started puking. All over himself; he didn’t even try to lean forward or avoid it. Then all over his friends as well. I don’t think the driver noticed – at least, not then.
And then, covered with puke, those kids just sat there and waited for their stop, then got off casually and were lost in the night.
Yeah, that was a memorable evening. I don’t, in fact, remember too much about the concert, though.
I don’t mean to bogart space on this thread, but please allow me to relate a puke story that you just reminded me about.
I had known Dan since grade school. (He was easy to pick out since he was the only Mexican kid in the school.) Short little feller, nice guy, fun to party with.
And party we did. One night a group of us were down at Lake Nokomis enjoying some cheap wine. It didn’t agree with him. He began to make the hurking noises as he tried to fight back against the urge to purge. As a last effort, he clamped his hands over his mouth, one hand over the other, but with his fingers slightly splayed.
What resulted was a multi-stream, fan-shaped barf that radiated in all directions. Truly an extraordinary effort. Excellent volume and outstanding landscape coverage.
Sadly, Dan passed away in Korea in a jeep rollover, but he’ll always be remembered for his heroic Bali Hai hurling.
Ha! I’d forgotten about a guy I saw at a college football game until this post! He apparently tried to do the whole get really drunk before the game and try to keep your buzz in the stands thing. The band hadn’t played the Star Spangled Banner yet and he was being escorted from the stands by the police. He was sort of continuously puking himself, running down the chin, hitting his chest, running down his pullover Starter jacket and filling his pouch pocket with alcohol vomit! It was disgusting…until someone shouted “Hey! get that guy a beer!” Then one of the cops who was helping him lost his grip and drunk kid fell and smashed his head into the railing on the stairs. I don’t think he noticed that either. The really sad part was that he probably paid $500 for the ticket because he was wearing the away team’s jacket in the home team student section for a very big rivalry game.
And no, I didn’t return that particular piece of gum.
This’ll probably turn out to be my most sucessful thead and it’s about puke.
Great reputation I’m getting here
And I can’t believe some of the things people are willing to admit…including me.
But if I haven’t admited enough I’ll tell you about the time I threw up at work…I wasn’t feeling well but I thought well enough to go to work (I was wrong). I took some medicine (blue) and almost immediatly threw up blue all over the floor.
And then had to clean it up myself. Which makes sense…except I was working in a pharamacy. Where you might think SOMEONE would have some compassion for sick people.
I was never so sick as during the time I was working in a pharamacy…and there I was surrounded by medicine…that they wouldn’t give me. Ironic.
Due to some stomach problems I vomit quite often. :rolleyes: Barrels of fun, I tell ya. I make it to the toilet maybe about 50% of the time.
My experience usually runs this way; I feel like I’m going to puke, I tightly close my mouth and clasp my hand firmly over my cake hole. Then I sprint through the house, hurdling furniture, dogs, and anything else that may be in my way. Just as I cross the threshold into the bathroom, my stomach heaves, hurling it’s contents into my mouth. It does so with such force that it blows the lip/hand gasket I’ve created to seal off the gastric volcano.
Because my lips and fingers only part slightly from the breach, my partially digested meal sputters out sending a plume of chum all over my bathroom walls. The sight, resembling a charnel house, sends me into further fits of cookie tossing, this time actually making it into the toilet. It’s really kind of moot now, the actual blowing chow into the toilet as I still have to don my HAZMAT home kit and scrape the aromatic nightmare from my walls and floor.
'Tis a grand experience.
