So Sean has a nasty case of flu or some sort of stomach bug. It started last night after we ate dinner. My mom, my cousin, Sean and I were all watching The Dark Knight movie, and about halfway through, Sean said, “I’ve got to go get ready for bed. I don’t feel well.”

Screeeeech? What? Sean not want to finish a comic-book-based movie? He must really not be feeling well. We all decided that it was getting late, and that going to bed was probably a good idea. So we all got ready and hit the hay.

Except… Sean was up all night with an upset stomach. Which means. I was up all night with Sean and his upset stomach.

I remember being a miserable sick kid when I was younger. I remember telling my mom it felt like there was a storm raging in my stomach. I remember vomiting so much and so hard that I ended up dry heaving and not being able to breathe. I hate hate hate being sick. And I feel too terrible that Sean was up all night feeling sick.

Every time he would moan in pain or take a deep breath to keep himself from tossing his cookies, I felt a little twang of illness in myself. Not that I’m coming down with what he has (please, no!), but in remembrance of when I had felt that way once in my life.

Knock on wood. I haven’t been for reals sick in a very very very long time. As gross as it sounds, I think all the germs I’ve encountered while biting my nails has built up my immunity (don’t judge me, you have bad habits too). I hope that I don’t catch whatever Sean has, but more than that, I hope he starts to feel better.

Because I know from experience that being sick really really sucks. Poor Sean.

Come back, Happy Sean!



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