Shuddering Tales Of Vomit

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
61

I was standing in the lunch line after lunch in first grade, behind a boy named Chris. I had eaten broccoli. He turned around to ask me a question. I didn’t even feel nauseous or anything, until I spewed broccoli all over him.

It wouldn’t be so bad, except that from 4th to 6th grade I had a huge crush on him, and he only remembered me as the girl who barfed on him.
:frowning:

Then, at my 6th grade graduation, I felt queasy from the moment I woke up. Everyone said it was just nerves. As I walked across the stage, I almost blacked out. I couldn’t seem to think of anything but that I must go outside. Now. Finally, after an eternity, we got in the car to go home, when I spewed all over the car, my nice dress, my hair, my parents…

:shudder:

62

This puking episode saved my life …

OK im allergic to tomatoes and id i eat too much of a tomato based product ill get queasy and gassy

Its 9 at night I have a big plate so noodles in a sauce with Italian sausage

around midnight Im on the computer and I start having what i think is pains from eating food i wasn’t really supposed to

Im getting really bad pains now so i lie down in bed they get worse and the puking starts So i mixed the baking soda as antacid thing and threw that up ah our later

It’s 4 am So I basically crawl about 2 blocks down the main street of the side of town i live in and get a alkaseltzer
Korean lady that’s seen me buy this there many times asks "when am i going to listen to my doctor and stop eating crap im not supposed to " in a nice mommy type of way

I drink it and make it back home to begin another round of puking

Finally about 7 am My cousin drives me to the ER and I puke there for 2 hours as im waiting by this time its painful as ive nothing lest to puke

they see me in and gives me a shot of morphine for the pain and makes me drink juice they take an x-ray and say its gall stones

A nurse comes by to give me another shot … im so stoned from morphine i cant even talk needless to say i spew all over the nurse who just gives me a that happens a lot type long suffering look

Then she notices it looks and smells worse than usual she actually scrapes some of it off and has it tested

she and the doctor come back in and the doc says "i think she just saved your life we’re going to have to remove your gall bladder the gangrene is eating through it and its about to bursts another hour or so you possibly would of died "
the next day they removed it and the stones they say normally i would of gotten to keep the gallbladder in a jar if i wanted to but it was so far gone it fell apart in their hands "

my cousin came in to check on me and i said hey it wasn’t your cooking for once … luckily i had 4 tubes in my arm or she would of killed me

63

This didn’t happen to me, but I heard about it at a planetarium convention in Kentucky this past summer. Not sure I have all the details correct, but…

It’s the middle of an automated planetarium show, good sized crowd. The guy behind the console needed to check on a piece of equipment, which he needed to get to by walking behind the back row of seats. He accidentally bumped the back of the head of somebody watching the show, who shrieked in surprise.

Nearby was someone else in the audience who must have been feeling pretty green, because the shriek caused him to go over the edge and spew…

Right onto the back of the head of the person sitting right in front of him.

So right in the middle of the show, you hear these three sounds, one right after the other:

EEK!
BLEAH!
EWWWW!

The planetarium guy turned around, returned to the console and kept quiet.

64

Three stories come immediately to mind.

This summer, we got a bottle of tequila and split it three ways over at my friend’s house. Now, for those of you who are familiar with tequila… you get very sick off of it if you overdo it. Long story short, I was laying on my friend’s trampoline hanging off the edge. One of the other guests was kissing his girlfriend in the immediate path. I just had time to say “Kevin… you’ll wanna move…” and he whisked his girl away right before I vomited blood all over my friend’s lawn.

Story 2: First night at the clubs. Overdid it just a shade, but was feeling good until I got out of the car. Across the street from my house, I ended up doubled over, holding on to a tree for leverage, vomiting on my neighbors’ lawn. Needless to say, they never figured it out.

Story 3: Not as exciting as the other ones, but… I was drinking salmari, which is a jet-black Finnish licorice-flavored liquor. Specifically, I drank a half-litre bottle of it in shots with Coca-Cola. While eating chocolate cookies. I understand the visual of Ace309 vomiting jet-black was really cool.

Thank you, that is all. :slight_smile:

65

I am one of those unfortunate souls who has motion sickness. When I was younger I threw up a lot. But the most miserable retching experience I’ve ever had was on the bus. I was in jr. high and I was one of those miserably self-concious kids anyway. I know I’m gonna be sick as soon as I move. I’m doing deep-breathing and keeping myself as motionless as possible, thinking that I’ll make a run for it when we get to my stop. We reach the stop before mine, and I’m desperatly trying to think soothing non-puking thoughts, but as soon as the bus lurches into motion I let go, covering myself in partially digested cafeteria food. This is bad. But to add the icing to the vomit cake, the bus driver pulls out that sickly-sweet smelling vomit cleaner and hands it to some kid with instructions to pour it over the mess. So this girl walks up to me and covers me in vomit cleaner. Gee, thanks.

66

This thread has reminded me that I must purchase some Dramamine or something before I get on a plane tomorrow, lest I have a story to contribute. Thank you all very much. :slight_smile:

67

2 memorable stories.

I was in second grade and just left the nurses office because I told them I was second. I was making my way back to class when, I at 7 years old, had projectile vomitted about 6 feet. Enough to make a grown man cry. Not only that it was all over the schools Nation Excellence in Education award. From then on they believed me when I said I was sick.

More recently about 2 months ago I had drank way too much Vodka (read about 13 ounces in 10 minutes). So after being fine for the first half an hour I felt it. It was the most evil feeling of my entire life. The vomit was almost picturesque. It was a nice red color (from the Black Cherry I had drank before hand). It was also the most painful vomitting experience in my life. I dry heaved for a good half an hour straight. Since then I haven’t really gotten drunk and don’t plan to for awhile.

68

Some of you may have heard me kvetching about my vasectomy. Everyone told me “It won’t hurt,” “You won’t feel much of anything,” etc. etc. etc. Well, the Dr. Marquis de Sade, with the extra dull scissors and the extra big needle, gets ahold of my poor stones and I am in AGONY. I’m talking kicked by a horse, right square in the nuts, hurting. He’s telling me all sorts of comforting tales while I’m laying there with my nuts in his hands (now that’s something I never thought I’d type) and he keeps injecting the lidocaine, right into the vas deferens.

At long last the torture is over. The Marquis prescribes some valium to help me relax and rest. I make it back home and have settled onto the couch with a bag of frozen peas stuffed into my sweatpants when I start feeling a little woozy. My then-mother-in-law helps me to bed and I start falling apart systematically - fever spikes to about 103, chills set in. I’d swear I had ebola but luckily my eyes aren’t bleeding. Then my guts start that wave-like roiling that can only mean one thing - you are going to puke and get diarrhea. Most probably at the same time. I manage to make it to the bathroom (still have the bag of frozen peas in my crotch) and kneel down in front of the toilet and, from the soles of my feet, I can feel the waves of bile coming. I must have thrown up sever or eight times with no chance to rest my head. We’re talking POWER HURL. I’m sufficiently out of it by this time not to notice that I’ve been letting go from the nether end as well.

Dopers - if you’ve never lain in the floor, drugged beyond belief on valium and lidocaine, with your nuts swollen to the size of lemons and bleeding (the stiches have popped from my retching), a pack of frozen peas in your crotch, just having puked your guts out and shit your own pants you have not lived. Trust me on this one, folks. I was a mess. There is no other word for it.

69

I have way too many puke stories and I don’t think that speaks well of me.

My first experience with drink at a party was cause for titilation among high school aquaintances the next school day. I went to a holiday bash at a friend’s place whose parents were in absencia. Being young and woefully ignorant about alcohol, I was drinking Southern Comfort and Coke. Lots and lots because it was good and sweet and hey, I’m feeling great and God I always had a crush on you and… ugh oh.

I made a mad dash to the nearest closed door where there’s a line assembled peaceably outside. Flinging it open it open without knocking, I brushed past two stunned female classmates, dropped to my knees in front of the anticipatory porcelain vessel and go completely frikkin’ vomitose. It’s good luck horseshoe shaped seat gave me little comfort right then. If this wasn’t bad enough, the act of dropping to my knees jarred loose this horrendous, pent up fart. I swear it almost sounded angry.

Why they put reverberatory tile in the one room in the house you’d like to have sound dampened in I’ll never know but between my flattulance and retching I was putting on quite a concert for all my school chums. Oh, the horror.

Yep, one of the bypassed observers I did have a huge crush on and no, we never did manage to get together after that. Go figure.

70

There was this one time, when I was around 15 or so…

My parents dragged me to some wedding reception, or whatever the hell it was. I really don’t remember, but I know they served pitchers of beverages at each table. Being 15, I stuck to Coke, at least to start out with.

The waiter put a pitcher of beer at my table. I didn’t know anyone at the party, so while people packed the dance floor, I sat at the table bored. Drinking beer. A sip at a time.

It’s amazing how much beer you can put away when you take your time drinking it.

The waiter kept bringing back a fresh pitcher, and I, of course, felt obliged to drink it. Oh, I should also mention that I was eating Swedish meatballs all night.

I have no idea how many pitchers I finished, but I remember my father helping me to the car, laughing his sadistic little laugh :), mumbling something about how I’d be sorry in the morning. I had no idea what he meant, and I promptly passed out on the back seat.

Next thing I knew, I woke up in a spinning bed, with a spinning stomach. I managed to stumble into the bathroom, and got my head into the bowl just in time.

Bwarrrrf! Rotten beer and Swedish meatballs everywhere. So much, in fact, that the bowl clogged up.

I have no idea what happened after that, but boy, did my father laugh the next morning.

71

Do second-hand stories count?

Here in New Orleans, we love Mardi Gras. Since Mrs. Ivorybill and I have four kids, we normally avoid the French Quarter even during the quieter times of the year, but it’s definitely off-limits during MG. We stay Uptown and do the family oriented MG stuff. (And yes, that’s not an oxymoron.)

Our single friends tend to stay exclusively in the F.Q., and this story is about them.

John and three of his friends were on Bourbon Street near one of the posher strip clubs in the early afternoon. The street was pretty well jammed with people, but folks could move around with only a bit of difficulty. As sometimes happens in the F.Q. during MG, a very attractive woman started putting on a strip show on one of the balconies - - not just bead-flashing, but an all out show. People started to close in to watch. John said that in pretty short order the street was so packed with people that nobody could move, even those who wanted to get out of the crowd. About this time John heard someone say “sorry” to his girlfriend. John had time to turn his head to see why when the retching started. John stood powerless as this stranger (who also couldn’t move) would puke on John’s girlfriend, apologize, puke, apologize, etc. until the crowd thinned enough for them to get out of the F.Q. and to the shower at their hotel.

MG is February 12, 2002, if anybody’s still interested.

72

So it was the Homecoming Parade my senior year in high school. Quietgirl and I were both in the marching band- I was the bell captain, she played both the flute and the bells. She was on flute for this parade, but we were marching side by side.

That day I hadn’t been feeling very well, but I figured that since it was my senior year I might as well give the parade a shot.

Approximately 3/4 of the way through the parade I was staggering and had give up all pretenses of playing. I managed to hand off my bell set to Jen and pretend to play her flute for the remaining quarter of the parade, still staggering.

At the end of the damn thing I lurched (no other word could really apply) to the back of a building and let go. Jen presently joined me and was sitting beside me holding my head as I threw up.

The band leader, being a pragmatic man, said that we could join the football game when I could physically stand up.

So we sat there for about half an hour, maybe more, in the dark and on the ground. She was holding my head in her lap as I sat there shuddering and attempting to pull myself together.

It was one of the most oddly romantic moments of my life, and I still remember the feel of her marching band uniform on my cheek.

73

Two stories:

  1. I was in high school and my class was hanging out in the library. I don’t remember feeling badly that day, but I do remember the sudden, desperate realization that I was going to throw up. I made it out of the library, down the hall and into the girl’s room. I couldn’t make it into the stall so I ended up throwing up into the sink.

As I finished (and felt much better), a custodian entered the bathroom and screamed at me for puking in the sink. I had to clean it up under their dour gaze. It was very, very embarassing.

  1. In junior high, I had stayed home from school because I didn’t feel well. In the afternoon, when I felt a little better, my mom decided to take me to the bookstore to get me a book to cheer me up since I had been sick (an avid reader from childhood, nothing makes me happier than a new book!)

I’m browsing in Waldenbooks when I became desperately ill. I walked up to the counter to ask them if I could use their bathroom (mall bathroom was much too far away) when I leaned over and urped all over the Waldenbooks cash register counter. They were surprisingly nice about it.

74

I’m a little fuzzy on some of the details, as this happened over 20 years ago, but here goes…

When I was a young child (7 or 8, maybe), one of my most hated and feared experiences was going to the dentist. For me, though, it wasn’t the poking and scraping or that weird rotating tooth polisher that bothered me, so much as this really nasty fluoride treatment that they gave kids at the time (late 70s).

After all the poking and scraping and polishing, as a coup de grace, they would take these horseshoe-shaped tooth molds (kind of like the mouthguards you see athletes use), fill them with this vile-tasting goo, and stick them on both my upper and lower teeth. Then they’d put that saliva vacuum in my mouth and make me sit there for what felt like half and hour but was probably only about 5 minutes.

I hated it. Just the feel of the goo oozing around my teeth would make me nauseous. While the molds were on my teeth, I couldn’t generally taste the stuff, since it was fairly well contained, but when the treatment would come to the end and they took the molds off, there would invariably be some still on my teeth, and I’d have the taste of the stuff stuck in my mouth for several hours, no matter how often I would “rinse and spit”.

Anyway, this one time they must have either gotten a little too enthusiastic filling the molds, or they didn’t fit the molds on my teeth properly, but as soon as they put them in my mouth, I could feel some of the goo get all over my tounge and start running down my throat. I tried to use the saliva vacuum to get it off, to keep myself from swallowing it, but to no avail. I thought it tasted bad when there was just a little residue of it on my teeth, but that was nothing compared to swallowing a mouthful of it. I started to gag, and could feel myself getting ready to lose it.

I must have looked a little green because the hygienist came over to check on me earlier that she would otherwise have done. She asked if I was all right, taking the saliva vacuum out of my mouth, and I proceeded to vomit all over her front.

For some reason, I didn’t receive the fluoride treatment again for a number of years :slight_smile:

75

I have so many tales to tell about my daughter. I’m going to have to include just the best ones.

Daughter as an infant would throw up when given liquid Tylenol. We never figured if it was the taste or something else that did the trick, but every single time we gave it to her she would erp. Late one afternoon, she spiked a fever, so we ran her to the clinic around the corner right before closing. The nurse said she’d give her liquid Tylenol to get the fever down. We warned her, and were told we weren’t giving it to her right, you put it between her teeth and cheek. Mom and I exchanged glances and nodded knowlingly. The nurse got one squirt down, and a bigger squirt returned on her. The nurse told us she just had an upset tummy, she’ll be OK now, and tried again. More barf. She finally settled on putting the kid in a sink of water to cool her down. Sometimes parents do know something.

It’s moving day, daughter is now almost 2. It’s an incredibly hot, humid day in the South. Grandmother fed the kid peaches for lunch, right before we started the trek. Down a winding mountain road. Peach chunks now cover the rear seat. After cleaning as much as possible, we get the choice. Keep the windows closed and gag from the smell, or roll them down to air out and melt in the process. We had to alternate all the rest of the trip.

Now Halloween. Our little Barbie had a great time, comes home and eats 1/2 of a chocolate candy. It’s too rich for her sensitive stomach, and she tosses all over the living room carpet. As mom and I clean, we tell her that if she feels like that again to go to the bathroom. She nods, and sure enough a few minutes later goes running off, and we hear the sounds. We run after, and there she is. Sitting on the toilet, barfing all over the bath mat. We’re laughing, and thank her for doing what we told her, but we get a little more explicit with the instructions for next time.

Then there’s the night I find you can’t literally die from embarassment. Now she’s about 7, and wants a real baseball bat instead of the plastic one she’s currently using. Hey, the local minor league team has bat night tonight - let’s go! We have a great daddy-daughter time, and enjoy ice cream and sodas. It’s an exciting game too, a real pitcher’s duel going into the sixth inning when I hear a noise from the next seat. I turn to see that it appears that someone has hooked my kid up to a fire hose. It would have been impressive, if someone hadn’t been seated directly in the line of fire. There wasn’t a square inch on him that was dry from the back of his head to his waist. I set the world record for most apoligies in 10 seconds. It probably helped that I was still holding the bat.

Her wisdom teeth needed to come out. She’s sedated and the oral surgeon gets all four. After a short recovery, we lead our groggy teen out to the car. We get about a block away from the office, when she unloads her stomach contents. All the blood from the surgery wound up in her tummy, so the back seat looks like a scene from “Alien”. Don’t worry, after a quick trip back to the office, she settled down and did well.

76

Funny that I should see this now, because on Sunday, I got food poisoning from a bad hot dog at the mall where I work. I’m not going to tell the whole story, because I’ve already told it to my supervisors, the hot dog shop employees/management, the mall management, the Board of Health*, my parents, my MIL, my FIL, and the people I was supposed to have dinner with on Tuesday. Suffice to say, I got better little by little, but I was only able to have one helping of everything on T-day.

Anyway. Age 22. Going back uptown after a party. White dress. Riding the bus. Bumping along, going from wondering if I’ll make it to knowing I won’t. Luckily, I reached that conclusion only one stop before my regular one. Pulled the cord, exited, and let loose on the sidewalk. I was thinking the whole time that I had no control over where it was going to land, but through some miracle, not a drop got onto the White Dress!

The same year, root canal work. This particular dentist used tranquilizer, and also something that dried up saliva. On the third visit, his assistant was told to administer more drying-stuff midway through the procedure. She squirted it right down my throat.

[sub]“I’m going to be sick”[/sub]

Returned to chair. “She squirted it right down my throat.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes. You did.”

“No! It must be a bad reaction to the tranquilizer.”

Right.

—Was anyone ever afraid of the sound of vomiting when they were a kid? I don’t sympathy-puke, never have, but as a kid, I feared that sound like it was ? When I was about 8, my dad had a stomach bug. He came home and heaved and heaved and heaved without stopping for fifteen minutes or more. I closed my door and mashed the pillow around my head, but I still couldn’t block it out. Then, we had to drive somewhere (must have been damned important), and we’re pulling over every exit, practically, while he’s in agony on the side of the road and I’m in agony in the back seat. Why was that sound so terrifying? It always was, not just in that incident, but I remember it because it was so protracted and inescapable.

*They say they’ll do an investigation “if there’s another complaint”. Why not now? “Because we have to establish a pattern.” :stuck_out_tongue:

(We really need an aggressive tongue-sticking-out smiley. The playful one is not always appropriate.)

77

This is the quote:

This is what I read:

Mid year Vatican 1998. Go up country to attend student union seminary. Basically it’s a big party. Start drinking in early afternoon. Much of the night is blank. Wake up next morning with the hangover from hell, wearing someone elses jacket, and my suitcase lying open with ALL my clothes in it covered in vomit. You know it was a good party!

God I’m tired.

78

How I found out I can’t drink soy milk:

Tried some soy milk at the local health food store. We (me and the now-ex) were travelling in the car, with her driving, when all of a sudden I start salivating. Copiously! I’m thinking “This is weird”, rolling down the window and spitting out. I don’t usually make a habit of spitting, but what else do you do when there’s literally too much to swallow? I mean, we are talking what seems like cups of saliva here! :eek: At this point, I still don’t feel nauseated but I tell the (now-ex) “maybe we better pull over”. We are almost home at this point, so she says, “Well, just wait a minute and we’ll be home”. The second we pull in the driveway at the aparment complex, I open the door and jump out, projectile vomiting into the bushes. This has to be the weirdest vomiting experience ever for me. I had never had that pattern of excessive salivation prior to vomiting before, and never vomited without feeling nauseous beforehand (usually at least a half hour of nausea before vomiting).

79

welllllllllll… I’ve hocked up my share of hairballs… the most memorable one was the one where I bet a friend that she couldn’t hock one up right in the Big Daddy’s mouth… she couldn’t. I could.

And the few times I’ve eaten mangoes (don’t ask), I get a horrendous allergic reaction that involves copious projectile vomiting (the record was, IIRC, about a meter and half).

[sub]i can’t believe i posted that![/sub]

80

From this site, a particularly gruesome puke tale from the web (Apologies for the long quote, but that page takes about five minutes to download. There’s a lot more there if you want to check it out).