ColinUK
Well-Known Member
- Relationship to Diabetes
- Type 2
- Pronouns
- He/Him
So yesterday I was awake at stupid o’clock even by my standards so thought I’d treat myself to breakfast out somewhere before therapy.
Took myself off to Bill’s which is a chain with one branch right next door the therapy rooms.
All of the traditional breakfasts sounded delicious but way way too carby to justify so opted for their Mediterranean Plate. Two poached eggs, some lightly pickled veg, spinach salad (which was just spinach) a smear of labnah and two small pieces of flat bread.
A bit of an odd combo for breakfast but it was tasty and went down a treat. Unfortunately it didn’t stay down.
After therapy I was making my way to the folks and had an urgent belly rumbling… dashed off the almost empty tube and on to the luckily empty platform before projectile vomiting in the perfect place to prove the fluid dynamics of regurgitated breakfast vs wall does result in quite significant splash back.
Platform staff were there in a flash with water for me and to wash it all down but I wasn’t finished yet by a long way no sir! For now the rumbling moved lower to signal intent to expel breakfast via a different route.
There are no toilets at Stratford tube station though so I had to dash as fast as possible through the station to Westfield and into the first available cubical.
That was more of an adventure than I thought possible as the first door I opened revealed two gentlemen, both of whom were likely to be of the homosexualist persuasion, getting to know each other. They looked shocked and embarrassed and I just turned and scarpered as my need to find a vacant cubicle far outweighed my desire to see if they wanted a third! Especially a third with vomit residue on his otherwise impeccably put together outfit of course.
So I walked as fast as possible whilst holding my arse cheeks clamped tight to the next set of loos to find all of those out of order. Onwards to the third set I went whilst weighing up whether, if needed, I could justify hopping into a plant pot as a medical emergency.
Dashed into the third set of loos to find a cleaner’s cart blocking the cubicals and a cleaner doing their thing. Moved the cart out of the way to the annoyance of the cleaner who just said “Zees arr all clozed” “It’s an emergency!” says I. Adding, “I’ve got a disability and need to go NOW!” and darted into the only open cubicle I could see and shutting the door in the face of the stunned cleaner.
Reader you will be pleased to know that I made it by the skin of my teeth and avoided a major incident which would have necessitated the likely evacuation of Westfield!
Didn’t think it wise to travel to the folks afterwards and wanted to clean up. Got the Javelin from Stratford to KXStP as it’s usually empty and walked home. Stripped off in the kitchen and shoved everything I was wearing into the washing machine before having a shower.
Spent the rest of the day very near the loo and was sick twice more during the night.
I’m a lot better now. I’m starving hungry of course. I’m also out of Imodium so I’ll no t to Boots and buy some before risking any food I think.
I’m not going to bother checking BG levels today. They are what they are and they can be there doing their thing quite happily until my digestive system is once more an image of calm tranquility and I have a less crappy day. Literally!
Therapy was great though and I still managed to help mum and dad with something in the afternoon so all was not lost!
Took myself off to Bill’s which is a chain with one branch right next door the therapy rooms.
All of the traditional breakfasts sounded delicious but way way too carby to justify so opted for their Mediterranean Plate. Two poached eggs, some lightly pickled veg, spinach salad (which was just spinach) a smear of labnah and two small pieces of flat bread.
A bit of an odd combo for breakfast but it was tasty and went down a treat. Unfortunately it didn’t stay down.
After therapy I was making my way to the folks and had an urgent belly rumbling… dashed off the almost empty tube and on to the luckily empty platform before projectile vomiting in the perfect place to prove the fluid dynamics of regurgitated breakfast vs wall does result in quite significant splash back.
Platform staff were there in a flash with water for me and to wash it all down but I wasn’t finished yet by a long way no sir! For now the rumbling moved lower to signal intent to expel breakfast via a different route.
There are no toilets at Stratford tube station though so I had to dash as fast as possible through the station to Westfield and into the first available cubical.
That was more of an adventure than I thought possible as the first door I opened revealed two gentlemen, both of whom were likely to be of the homosexualist persuasion, getting to know each other. They looked shocked and embarrassed and I just turned and scarpered as my need to find a vacant cubicle far outweighed my desire to see if they wanted a third! Especially a third with vomit residue on his otherwise impeccably put together outfit of course.
So I walked as fast as possible whilst holding my arse cheeks clamped tight to the next set of loos to find all of those out of order. Onwards to the third set I went whilst weighing up whether, if needed, I could justify hopping into a plant pot as a medical emergency.
Dashed into the third set of loos to find a cleaner’s cart blocking the cubicals and a cleaner doing their thing. Moved the cart out of the way to the annoyance of the cleaner who just said “Zees arr all clozed” “It’s an emergency!” says I. Adding, “I’ve got a disability and need to go NOW!” and darted into the only open cubicle I could see and shutting the door in the face of the stunned cleaner.
Reader you will be pleased to know that I made it by the skin of my teeth and avoided a major incident which would have necessitated the likely evacuation of Westfield!
Didn’t think it wise to travel to the folks afterwards and wanted to clean up. Got the Javelin from Stratford to KXStP as it’s usually empty and walked home. Stripped off in the kitchen and shoved everything I was wearing into the washing machine before having a shower.
Spent the rest of the day very near the loo and was sick twice more during the night.
I’m a lot better now. I’m starving hungry of course. I’m also out of Imodium so I’ll no t to Boots and buy some before risking any food I think.
I’m not going to bother checking BG levels today. They are what they are and they can be there doing their thing quite happily until my digestive system is once more an image of calm tranquility and I have a less crappy day. Literally!
Therapy was great though and I still managed to help mum and dad with something in the afternoon so all was not lost!
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