The trouble is, high levels of anxiety really do spark nausea for me.
So it's a self-fulfilling prophecy. More than one Brit Dwellar has heard me retch on the phone when upset and/ or have to terminate a conversation (with extreme prejudice.)
"Nerves" hit my digestive system hard, at both ends. I think I've puked more because of stress than I have anything else put together; and that's saying something for an alcoholic.
Anyway, I made it without being sick. But it was a close-run thing. A lovely surprise
when I went to the cashpoint (no, not really) meant I didn't get the earlier bus. Then the later one was late. The best part of twenty minutes late by the time it pulled out. That was cutting it far too fine imo. So I did what any mentally healthy mature woman would do. I started crying and reached out for my support team (I do have more than one member, but the one I mention most often here is Carruthers - other Dwellars have been marvs too.)
He reassured me that if I missed my 11.00 coach, he would still help me get to Aylesbury, to stop panicking and shut up. And stop crying. Although of course he said it in a far kinder way.
By the time I sat on the coach and clicked my seatbelt on, the time showed 10.59. We pulled out at 11.00 on the dot. It was that close (for those who don't travel by coach, the drivers often refuse to let you on if you turn up that late, as the time it takes them to stow your luggage and lock up the compartment eats into an already punishing schedule.)
I didn't vom. But I had my bag handy just in case. And that was also a close-run thing.
Anyway, I'm here now, being a devoted child.
(yes okay I'm on the 'puter, but Mum's packed, it's too early for dinner, Dad is snoozing and she's on the phone...)
Oh and I only forgot two things. Mum's two new bras (
bad daughter, BAD daughter) and ALL my medication.
Still, I'm counting that only as two.
I remembered my colouring book...