Who Manages The Puke

~ Bitchy After 60

This is not a graphic story about vomit. We have all heard, or seen, way too many of those. Instead, consider it a description of crisis management or perhaps determination. Or maybe even personal strength of character. But quite possibly it’s just pure stubbornness.

In every household there is the person who manages the puke. Here, it is not my husband. He is useless around puke and stays as far away from it as possible. Even when I first met him, and we had his two boys most weekends, I was the one who managed the pukey situations. I was the one who rubbed the boys backs. The one who bathed their faces with a wet facecloths. And the one who cleaned up the mess. 

My puke management skills started early in life. I seemed to be a natural. The kid who always made it to the bathroom on time, or the bucket placed by the side of the bed, or the ditch if it happened to be a case of car sickness. Or the barf bag. Unlike my sister, who became terrified every time she got sick. Like a deer in the headlights, she was too afraid to move or speak up; so all of a sudden there it was all over the bed we shared, or in the car far from home filled with five kids and two adults. I stopped sharing a bed with my sister at the age of twelve so I can’t attest to her current puke management skills; but she is over sixty, so I am sure they have improved. 

My first job as a teenager was at a medical clinic, where I filed, waited on patients and cleaned up puke. Again I was a natural. Of course, every woman who worked there was expected to be a natural in the puke department. Kudos to all of us.

But I am not as good at it anymore. Maybe my resilience has worn thin, or my sense of smell, that my husband always said should be registered with the police department, has become even more sensitive. I really don’t know. Just last fall, when he had his knee replaced, I found myself in a situation where the painkillers made him sick and he didn’t make it to any of the usual sick collection spots. I can honestly say that it was difficult. Puke management has become a job I am ready to give up. 

So what happens when the puke manager becomes the puker? It happened. I got sick, really sick. Sick enough that my body displayed every rotten symptom in it’s repertoire. It was worse than when I had Covid last year. Much worse. One evening last week, the dry heaves and headache were unbearable. I was alone while my husband and son were in distant parts of the house. At one point, my husband had drifted into the bedroom, keeping a safe distance from the en suite where my body was being miserable. Then he disappeared to a faraway room. My son, popped in quickly to replenish the glass of water by my bed and also disappeared to the lower level, even farther away in the house. There were no back rubs or cool facecloths. I was left alone, which normally I don’t mind because I usually just want to curl up into a ball and sleep when I am sick.

However, this headache was of migraine proportions, and I couldn’t keep anything down. Lying in bed, afraid to move for fear it would amplify the symptoms, I needed help. I grabbed my phone from the bed table and sent the following message, Can one of you go to a drugstore and get me some Gravol?

And that’s what it took. Within an hour, the Gravol was taken, and stayed down. Shortly after that, the pain reliever also stayed down. Sleep followed, and my body moved on to other symptoms. 

And now, almost a week later and almost better, I have come to the conclusion that, no matter what, I will always have to be the puke manager, whether I want to or not. So tell me, who manages the puke in your world?

Thank you for reading. 

Photo: Jenn Stone

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19 thoughts on “Who Manages The Puke”

  1. Oh Jenn that sounds awful Hope you’re feeling better now, thankfully you thought enough to text them. I recently had to take care of my mother who had many boughts of vomit. She had taken care of me so many times, I could finally take care of her. Maggie

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  7. It is curious how husbands and wives adopt some jobs. My wife and I have had this discussion because some things just happened without us talking about it. For the record, we both have some terrible jobs.

    Once my mother-in-law was giving my wife, our infant son, and me a ride to the San Francisco Airport in her car. Right before we got there, our two year old threw up all overhimself in his car seat and in my mother-in-law’s car. We had to catch our flight, so she had to drive home an hour with the terrible odor and then clean up the caked on mess. I felt terrible for her.

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  8. I did not read this because this is one topic I cannot [excuse the pun] stomach. However whatever it is that you said, I agree with you… because that’s what bloggy friends do. Support each other.

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  9. That sounded horrendous – poor you – but what a good idea to text then to get you the medication!

    Perhaps you find it harder to deal with the puke now as you’ve got your house how you like it and hate having it defiled by people puking in it – I know I’d be like that in my own house.

    When it comes to puking myself though, I generally won’t do it and do everything possible to not throw up. That includes swallowing rapidly and constantly, keeping totally still and so on. The reason I won’t be sick if I can help it is because I often pass out when I throw up and I think, living alone, that’s very dangerous!

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    1. No having a house has nothing to do with no longer wanting to manage it. I have had a house for over thirty years. I just find that the smell makes me retch much worse now.

      Passing out when getting sick sounds quite scary. I understand why you don’t let yourself get sick. I think I would be inclined to try to do the same. Not sure how successful I would be though.

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