I take Omeprazole every single fucking day.

I take it because I have GERD (that means my stomach acid likes to go roaming now and then).

The reason I take my Omeprazole every single fucking day is, because if I don’t, I will be dealing with stomach acid – all the way up to the back of my throat – like washing up against my uvula back of my throat.

Stomach acid does not belong anywhere except in the stomach. 

This is because stomach acid burns the living shit out of anything other than stomach walls (props to stomach walls). 

Now and again, my stomach acid decides to rebel and go wandering despite being dosed with Omeprazole.

Last night was one such night.

Around 11 pm, I’m tippy-tappying away at the computer when suddenly I feel a bubble coming up my throat.  Oh fun, I think, mega burp coming on.


A big ass bubble of stomach acid coming all the way up.

And …………….. “pop”

FUCK that hurt.

The back of my mouth was burned, the back of my throat was burned, my vocal cords were burned and everything from the stomach up to my mouth was burned.  Not a nice charred burned.  A raw stinging flayed alive burn. 

And now all of that is coated in stomach acid.

I go (nay, run) to the bathroom and start chewing mega-Tums, and rinsing them down.  Usually, this works immediately, as the Tums mixes with the water I’m drinking and coats the injured areas and neutralizes the acid all the way down to the stomach.

Not this time.  This was some sort of mutant extra-strength long-lasting stomach acid.

I go to the kitchen, where I try to talk to my dear husband only to find that my usual dulcet tones have turned into a 6-pack a day, quart of whisky voice – which can’t go much above a whisper.  I gulp down lots of water. 

Things seem a little better, so I go back to the computer, only to find that every bit of mucus membrane (at least whatever hasn’t been seared off) is still burning – fiercely; and all the snot that lives in my sinuses has turned into dripping bits of red hot lava. 

So I go get a can of seltzer (why I didn’t think of this earlier is a mystery – I’m usually so good in emergencies).  I drink some seltzer and things seem to be quieting down to a dull roar and glowing embers.

It’s now 2 a.m.  I go to bed. 

I find that I cannot sleep, because I am still coughing due to the throat incineration and the lava snot keeps dripping down the burning throat. 

It’s now 3 a.m.  I get up. 

I go sit in one of my she-cave recliners with the comfy (cat) throw around me and try to fall asleep.  Fat cat Berta comes and cuddles with me; and I actually start to drift off – until Berta decides to take a walk across me (pokey paws!).  But at least now, I know sleep is possible, and indeed I do drift off again.

It’s now 5 a.m.  I get up and take my fat old lady weary ass to bed.  I drift off again.

It’s now 6:30 a.m. and LEG CRAMPS.  Horrible leg cramps that won’t release. 

After rubbing the cramped rock solid muscles into submission, I sprawl across the bed (hubby has gotten up) and fall into a deep sleep.

11 a.m.  I wake up.

Remember when you used to get up feeling like shit, short on sleep and aching everywhere because you had been drinking to excess and partying and been up to God (TIDBI) know’s what?

I feel like that, only without the fun parts.

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