By Patti Parish-Kaminski, Publisher
Making a comeback four days post episode. Apparently, when you’re 60, it takes a minute to bounce back.
Four weeks into my “Birthday Quarter,” it got real. After a raucous, rambunctious and real night of revelry, my entire body quit.
Now I know what you’re thinking – hangover. I’m not certain exactly what a hangover entails since I have not had this particular affliction since my twenties. I’ve smartened up since then. So, I looked it up. Apparently, a hangover – not the movies – is “a combination of unpleasant physical and mental symptoms, like headache, fatigue, nausea and irritability, that occur after excessive alcohol consumption.” Merely unpleasant? Not. Even. Close.
This past Sunday was literally from the pages of Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying. It’s a tragic and dark comedy that addresses mortality. Check, check and check, except for the comedy part. There was nothing funny about the near death situation I found myself in.
Mr. Kaminski woke me up – big mistake – bright and early. It was 11 am. In hindsight, I truly believe had he not made that grave error, I might have made it in peaceful slumber for a brief 24 hours. He could have awakened me with a kiss just like Snow White after a reasonable amount of recovery time – one, maybe two days. But alas, that was not the case.
Not only did he wake me up, I had to get dressed, pack, walk and ride in a car. I completely understand that these are mundane, common tasks. There was nothing mundane about this process that early, early Sunday morning.
To his credit, Mr. Kaminski had in tow a large Diet Coke on ice and a bottle of water. Somehow, he was aware of the impending condition of his betrothed prior to the official rousting. I’d like to share with you how he knew that, but I got nothing.
Being the prepared and purposeful planning individual that I am, I had packed some Liquid IV certain that would ward off any extenuating circumstances that I might find myself in post birthday bash. I prepared the tiny packet in a cup of water and gulped greedily. I would like to tell you that it helped tremendously. In hindsight, I would have needed a foot tub full of that stuff to make a dent in my current situation.
Convinced this was the end and that my liver was completely shot, I called Lisa Ann to inform her of my impending doom and the culprit.
“Someone sat on me and poured an entire bottle of wine down my throat, I’m certain,” I lamented.
“Don’t worry. I’ll beat them up,” she replied. She gets me.
I’m not at all certain that I will survive the “Birthday Quarter” concept. I didn’t feel like death warmed over for a day; it was three days. It was four days before I could even think about having a glass of wine with dinner. But, your girl rallied and took one for the team.
I’m not certain what the next few weeks holds, but I know it won’t be me partying like it’s 1999. See y’all next week – on the porch!
Patti Parish-Kaminski
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