Vomit

I believe I have had more dealings with vomit than anyone I have ever met. When I was younger, it was due to chemo. I puked so much I developed a bleeding ulcer. This was before the invention of those, literally life saving, anti nausea medications. Then, when I was pregnant with Buttercup, I puked 10-12 times a day. Smells, sounds, nothing would be too insignificant to make me throw up. Every week or so, before hospitalization, I would go to Urgent Care, get some meds and IV fluids and feel a bit better. After a couple of weeks of being in the hospital I snapped out of it.
Later, when pregnant with Fiona, I would throw up 5-6 times a day, but I would never get relief from it or from those great medicines. A nasty kidney infection, a bout with the stomach flu and TD and I calculated that I puked enough in the first 10 years of our marriage to be bulimic after every meal for 2 years! That is a lot.
I never understood why I do this until I went to see my dad last year after his heart surgery. They were moving him from the Cardiac Care Unit to a regular room and he had a huge vomit bowl in his lap in the wheelchair. Apparently it was his lovely genetic contribution that gave me a stomach so easily influenced. I don't think Fiona inherited this gene because she never puked due to chemo during her two years. And she took a lot of serious stuff.
This is why I have come to fear school and the stomach bugs that like to race through them. I do not want to throw up any more than I absolutely have to. But night before last Buttercup woke up at 12:30am and started throwing up. Ugh! There are few things worse than the stomach flu or food poisoning and she had a bad case of the stomach flu.
She kept getting up every hour to vomit and for the most part, I got up to help her out. I do have to say, she did a good job getting it in the bowl or the toilet. There is really nothing worse than digging chunks out of nice carpet. (Sorry for the visual). She continued through the rest of the day, not as often, but still pretty bad.
I kept washing my hands like a crazy person and I took great care not to hand anything to her directly. Lysol became my new best friend, until Buttercup sprayed the faucet herself. Now what was I supposed to do? How do you disinfect the disinfectant?
Luckily, she seems to have turned the corner today. She feels mostly okay and no one seems to have caught it. Poor little girl. It's not easy being the family pariah. Now I just need to go hunt down all of the bedding she touched and clean it. Sigh... a mother's work is never done.