The gravel cut into the palms of my hands and my knees as I crouched next to the garden shed. Cars sped down Virginia’s Route 29 just a few yards away — too fast, I hoped, to notice me on the ground in my bright pink sundress.
The parking lot of the roadside shed business was empty. My van blocked the line of sight from the sales office. The shed hid me from oncoming traffic. Appreciating my little bit of privacy, I could wretch in peace. While I was at it, I admired the pattern on my new dress.
It was my first time wearing the dress, a sporty little thing I picked up on sale at Athleta just a few days earlier. It was a perfect throw-up outfit — non-wrinkle, sweat wicking, and a subtle pattern that would hide flecks of what had been my lunch. The only downside was the bright pink NOTICE ME color.
Throwing up in public places is more comfortable if you’re camouflaged.
It All Started in a Little White Church…
I’m one of those “spiritual but not religious” people. Although I went through a few church-going phases in my youth, as an adult I connect with the Universe outside the confines of organized religion.
I’ve always wondered if barfing on the church carpet just minutes before my cousin’s wedding had an impact on my spiritual path. I was 13 years old and my mother and I had flown from Washington State to Connecticut for the wedding. I was scheduled to be the candle lighter.
Unfortunately, I was overcome by my first serious bout with motion sickness during the cross-country flight, knocking my equilibrium out of whack. I couldn’t stand for more than a minute or two before severe waves of nausea descended.
Puberty bequeaths many gifts. Hormone fluctuations, I learned many years later, can increase susceptibility to motion sickness. Whereas I was hoping for a new pair of breasts (which didn’t truly arrive until I was 45–and then not even “truly”), what I got instead was a proclivity for severe motion sickness that would plague me the rest of my life.
My mother and I arrived at the church. I looked adorable (I’m told) in the bright yellow floor length dress I had sewn myself for the occasion. My cousin the bride, radiant in her mother’s lacey wedding gown, met us in the foyer.
I took one look at her and threw up on the carpet, only barely missing the bridal hemline.
I not only didn’t light the candles in the wedding, I couldn’t even participate in the standing parts of the ceremony. For the next four or five days, in fact, if I wasn’t horizontal, nausea and fits of vomiting would overcome me. I didn’t know it at the time, but that episode set the framework for countless similar scenarios in the years to come.
7 Sick Lessons
When I told my sister Lisa about my recent PDV (public display of vomiting) next to the garden shed — which, I might add, was just the start of a four day adventure that eventually landed me in the ER with an IV pumping anti-nausea meds and fluids into my dehydrated sorry self — she said, “You should write a blog post about all the places where you’ve thrown up.”
My husband’s response to the idea was, “And who would want to read that?”
But my sister (a PDV’er herself — motion sickness runs in the family) can see the humor in these stories. The bigger challenge was to find the lessons. But if I can pull lessons from my rotting compost pile, than I can pull some out of the airsick bag as well.
So here goes…
1) Be prepared. You can’t prepare for everything in life, but if you know yourself well enough, you can have strategies to fall back on when the going gets tough. If you’re prone to panic attacks, for example, master those breathing techniques. If you’re prone to PDVs, keep a hotel shower cap in your pocket or purse, like the one I gacked into years ago standing right next to my sister in an elevator. A shower cap is easier to hide than a shopping bag and the elastic edge keeps things nice and tidy.
2) Lose the drama. Save your energy to handle the situation at hand. When I was still working as an international economist in the 1990s, I landed in the Korean capital for a round of trade negotiations. Already sick from the flight, I was loaded into a stuffy van that swerved through the chaotic streets of Seoul, straight to a dinner hosted by the Korean Finance Minister. I quietly excused myself four different times to excrete the seven-course meal that was served, preserving my energy (and my credibility) for the next day’s meetings.
3) Listen to your body. Most of us are either too busy to listen to signals from our bodies, or we think we’re too important to slow down. President George H. Bush learned this the hard way in 1991, when he spewed all over his dinner partners at a banquet hosted by the Japanese Prime Minister. According to Wikipedia, it’s what George H. is most remembered for in Japan.
4) Look for the silver lining. On our Caribbean honeymoon almost 20 years ago, my new husband and I hired a catamaran to transport us to prime snorkeling waters. Despite the Dramamine I had taken (never leave home without it), I got sick — not on the boat, mind you, but in the midst of snorkeling. The chum served as an oceanic dinner bell, drawing the most amazing array of fish we may ever see.
5) Stop worrying about what other people think of you. Long before we were old enough to have learned this lesson, Lisa and I sat in the backseat of her new boyfriend’s tiny airplane. We were all trying to make a good impression on Tom, whom my mother (in the front seat next to the cute pilot) and I were meeting for the first time. “I feel sick,” I whispered to my sister within a few minutes of being air born. “No you don’t!” she hissed back at me. “Yes, I do!” I insisted. This went on for a few minutes until I proved it. Tom quickly tossed me a potato chip bag, narrowly avoiding a stained and stinky carpet. Despite the collective mortification of the three women in that plane, Tom (my treasured brother-in-law for over 30 years now) transformed the incident into a bonding experience.
6) It’s okay to ask for help. As a child and young adult, I was fiercely independent. I’ll save the reasons why for another blog post some day, but suffice it to say, self-sufficiency was my number one priority. In my early thirties, the combination of motion sickness and migraines became increasingly debilitating. On my way to pick up my kids from school one day, I threw up after making a U-turn driving my own car. I made it to the school, but was in such bad shape that my husband had to leave work to rescue us. My sons, 7 and 9 at the time, sat on either side of me while I slumped against the side of the school, their little hands patting my head while I heaved. No more hiding behind the infallible I’m the Mommy, that’s why! mask. Instead, my kids (after many such rescues) now know that nobody’s strong all the time, everyone needs a hand now and then, and families and friends take care of each other.
7) Don’t take yourself too seriously. No matter where you stand on the socio-economic or political power scales, tossing your cookies in public is the great equalizer. It’s one thing to be brought to your knees in the privacy of your own bathroom. It’s quite another to have an audience witness your yack fest. Nothing reins in the ego more quickly than the public upchuck (and I mean that in a good way). Just let go and embrace it as one more small step toward enlightenment.
If you enjoyed today’s entry and are not yet a subscriber, sign up above for free delivery of new posts to your email inbox. (I promise to never share your information.) Social media likes and shares are always appreciated as well!
Mia Gardiner says
Martha…… This blog is great….. talk about making lemonade out of lemons…… plus some very good life lessons thrown in for flavor (hope this food reference isn’t arriving during a motion sickness time for you!).
I laughed out loud so many times, while feeling a bit guilty for enjoying reading about such an unpleasant thing you have to deal with. But your humor was irresistable. Your writing is wonderful — even the stories I already knew were refreshingly told in a delightful way.
And your lessons to learn, as you know, are good advice for many other times too.
I will carry a shower cap around in my purse from now on for you or any other PDV I may be with. Love, Mia
Martha says
Thank so much, Mia! Your flavor reference did turn my stomach a bit, and I’m not even moving. Glad the entertainment value outweighed the gross out factor for you. Threw caution to the wind on this one! xxoo Martha
ellen says
Your mother is speechless. These are NOT my genes. But it is all so familiar. And I feel sorry ! Charge forward! Always with a shower cap!
Martha says
As you know, Mom, this post could have gone on and on with examples. And you’re right, the PDV genes are not from your side of the family (I’ll have to find something else to write about to even things up now). Thanks for cleaning up after me all these years. xxoo M.
Francine says
Insightful as always, even in the most vulnerable state!
Martha says
Always great to hear from you, Francine. Glad it was worth the read (despite the messy subject)! ~ Martha
Lauren Crum says
I thought this blog was exceptional…I look forward to reading it again in your book!
Martha says
Thank you, Lauren! “Exceptional” is such an elegant word to pair with “Tossing My Cookies.” I appreciate it! ~ Martha
cj says
Martha! You could have simply put up the photo, but glad you went ahead and wrote the post! Love your ability to laugh at yourself and have a good time with a rather difficult subject. This I like to do with my asthma, often calling myself bubble boy to put people at ease and have some fun with it.
The snorkeling scene really takes the cake or shall I say the chum?
Martha says
Dear Bubble Boy. Maybe we shouldn’t go snorkling together. You might have trouble getting things in (like air). I might have trouble keeping things in (like, well, you know..). Always fun to connect with you, CJ! Thanks for the comment! ~ Martha
Tammy R says
Martha, thank you for sharing this post. Your honesty and positive spin are what makes this top notch! Who would think your unfortunate circumstances might lead to viewing spectacular sea creatures?!
I was especially touched by your sons patting you while you waited for your husband. You are right. we all need to rely on others sometimes, and I’m so glad you have so many wonderful someones in your life!
Martha says
Great to hear from you, Tammy! I’m sure a lot of people couldn’t stomach this post, so I appreciate your kind words. And you are right — I am extraordinarily fortunate to have so many wonderful someones in my life. Thanks so much for the visit! ~ Martha
Yoon Jung Park says
Only YOU can make me giggle about vomiting in public! Probably, in no small part, because I, too, have had episodes with migraines & public vomiting, which I seem to have passed on to my almost 12-year-old daughter, Siana. She has been doing this so regularly now that she, too, takes it in stride, whether in the car (as we traveled cross-country from LA back to DC), her first baseball game (Orioles vs Red Sox), or at the movies (watching Despicable Me). We usually carry a plastic bag with us, but I like the plastic shower cap idea. Will pick up some of those on my next trip to the CVS! I have had to warn friends and family that she does this sometimes and they shouldn’t get too freaked out. Thanks for sharing the lessons! Yoon
Martha says
So sorry that poor Sianna is a PDV-er as well, Yoon! Make sure to collect all the hotel shower caps you can during your travels. They pack better than the heavier plastic versions and don’t make as much of a crinkly noise. Character building, all of it…. Thanks for adding to the PDV Chronicles! xxoo Martha
Bill Apablasa says
I am not a PDV’er, but I am a PDD’er, PDV’er, PDC’er, otherwise known as dizziness, vertigo and cowardice. And, yes, I too have been dropped to my knees in public far too many times to count. Let’s just say I share your pain and now your joy. What a wonderful post, Martha. It was vomit all over yourself funny. But, behind the laughter is a wonderful truth: where there is joy and humor and self-deprecation, there is a light that leads to more awareness. Thank you for turning that light on.
Martha says
Wonderful to hear from you, Bill! I know you feel my pain here. I never would have attempted to climb a mountain during one of my episodes, as you did last year. So I’m not buying the cowardice label you’ve slapped on yourself! Thank you for summarizing so succinctly in your comment why I felt compelled to write this post — I wasn’t quite sure myself until you laid it out for me. ~ Martha
Alys Milner says
Martha, thank you for circling me on G+. I wouldn’t have otherwise found your amazing post. I love your writing, and your ability to share in such a personal and humorous way.
I’ve had PDVs in at least three different countries, always related to motion. Never fun.
Finally, I’m a huge Athleta fan. I can almost picture your pretty dress.
Martha says
Thrilled to connect with you here, Alys! I must say, I’m having great fun exploring Google+. Discovering like-minded people is so much easier there. Twitter is just too overwhelming for me.
Love the challenge of thinking about how many countries I’ve had PDVs in — hmmm, US, Korea, British Virgin Islands, Germany, Canada, Tanzania, France, Italy, Turkey, Tunisia, Algeria … that’s just a start (this post really could have gone on and on and on…).
And to think we have PDVs, gardening, mini-vans, teenaged sons (this intelligence gathered from your comment on the mini-van post) and a taste for Athleta in common (which means you must like to exercise too). How wonderful! Looking forward to continuing the conversation on G+ and your own blog, which I’ll check out shortly. Thanks so much for visiting! ~ Martha
Donna Patterson says
Oh Martha! Giggles from Australia.!!
I have not laughed out loud over something so funny in a while.Your stories are so familiar to me, both for myself and my brother (he was worse than me) and Olivia.
Olivia regularly felt sick on the 1.5 mile drive to her primary school. It went on for years. My brother gets plane sick and then can be unwell for days after. He loves to surf too but manages to feed the fish (hopefully not the sharks!) as he waits for the right wave to come through. I feel very foolish when I mange to make myself unwell just watching a swing or spinning ride and not even be on it! Tee hee!
So good to laugh at yourself. Thanks for giving me the opportunity. This was an outstanding post. I will have to pass it on. D x
Martha says
Thanks SO much for sharing your family’s own experiences with this messy malady, Donna! Sorry I didn’t respond sooner — must have missed the notification of the comment. I know just what you mean about not being able to watch swings or spinning rides. When Cody and Jacob were little, I would put them on the merry-go-round at the park and just turn my back. If they flew off, they flew off. They survived. Forgot to put this one in the post, but I also got sick after watching an IMAX movie once! And yes, I was very in tune to Darcy’s minor bout with car sickness when we took him skiing. One more thing we have that connects us, even across the continents… Hugs, Martha