Here's how it went down:
-Tuesday evening there was the aforementioned drama aboard Southwest. After finally getting off that freaking plane, I raced to the theatre through rush-hour traffic (using the HOV lane with abandon and practicing my "But officer, I've got cancer" ticket-escape-technique out loud), and after eating some chicken broth and hummus, actually felt quite a bit better and was able to make it through the show.
-Wednesday was ok...I felt kind of icky, but managed to eat some cereal, yogurt, blueberries, lounge around, watch some West Wing...and 'round about 8pm began to feel like crap. So I went to bed.
-Thursday the crappy feeling progressed to true wretchedness. I felt wretched and took pills and tossed them back up again and sipped Gatorade until Friday evening, when I awoke about 5pm and actually felt a little alive again. I braved some applesauce and saltines, felt okay about that choice, and went back to bed. It's Saturday and I have awoken feeling...if not entirely healed, at least alive and running at about 75% or 80%!! If I had ever had the occasion in my life to drop E or take acid, I imagine that coming DOWN would feel something like this -- a little spacey, hollow-stomached, weak-ish, and every little effort making my heart race and my face flush. (Too bad I didn't get the high part of the experience.) But this recovery-feeling is a massive step in the right direction. I'm alive and now I know what to expect for next time. Bring it on.