Vomit 呕吐 [ǒu tù]

Last night, I picked up my husband from a holiday work party.

When he called for the pick up, I knew he was massively drunk. I listened for the slurred address and scribbled it down. Then I zoomed to the car.

On the phone, he sounded drunk. Drunk enough to vomit. I don't mind my husband over-drinking occasionally, but when he pukes, it's the worst. It's not the grossness that I mind. It that when he pukes, he tends to do it in bed, and he tends to be asleep.

Many years ago, I woke up to my husband choking on his vomit. I recall quickly getting up and rolling him on his side. It saved his life, and the whole experience was vaguely traumatic.

If that happened once, I'd think it was a freak accident, but a few years after that, it happened again. Now whenever he gets that drunk, I worry that he is going to fall asleep face-down and choke. I about a horrible disaster and a terrible waste of his life.

I drive and daydream about all the bad things. When I get there, my husband is no where to be found. So, I call him.

I find out that he is wandering around the streets, and he is at some intersection that I don't know about. Somehow I convince my husband to come my way. I see my husband, and he is so drunk that he can barely walk on his own. It turns out that the 3 drinks he thought he was going to be allotted had somehow had turned into 7 drinks. He explains that there were aerial dancers at the party, pouring champagne.

It's 1 am, and I drag him to the car. Once in the car, he can't buckle his seat belt. So, I help him. He rolls down the window and keeps his window down. He knows he is going to be sick. I instantly regret not bringing water.

I drive carefully because I'm worried about cops and drunk drivers. Though secretly, I'm hoping that my husband will puke in the car. Ideally, outside of the car and not in front of a cop. I drive and take the corners a little sharper than I should, while at the same time driving safe. I want my husband to puke.

A few blocks away from the house, he starts puking, and if it was someone else, I would have pulled over. Though since it's my husband, I want him to puke it all out, so I continue driving ast if nothing is happening. I pat his pat, hoping to ease the discomfort a little bit. I think about how I'm a terrible citizen and wife for letting him puke like this. Though in the end, I want him puking so that he won't choke later.

We get home. I park the car but have trouble moving my husband. He is a big guy and nearly passed out on his vomit. I get help from a housemate and by dragging his feet out of the car. I convince him that he wants to get up. I move him into the house, he is barely able to navigate the stairs. I get him to take off his clothes, and I try to get him into the shower. But it's not happening and the slippery walls of the tub are too difficult for him to navigate anyway. I was him off quickly with a wet towel. He still kinda smells like puke but is mostly clean.

I get him to bed and try to get him to drink water, but he won't have it. I think about how much he is going to suffer the next. He instantly falls asleep. I make sure he is on his side.

I go and clean the car. My husband managed to puke mostly outside of the car, and I can't be more than pleased. I wipe it off with towels and scrub it with soap and water. Mat takes pity on me and helps me do all this. Eventually, I want to go to bed, but I placed Sam onto of most of the blankets and don't want to bother him.

Also to be honest, the bed smelled like vomit. So I slept next to mat, had nightmares and then checked on Sam. I went to bed around 3am, woke up at 6am, went back to bed at 7am, woke up at 10:00am, went back to bed. Had nightmares.

So, today I'm all messed up. Sam was hung over, and I felt like I was hungover too. So, I took a break from life today.