GRAPHIC WORDS AND DESCRTIONS USED BELOW.

Hi all,

I haven't posted in a while. I made myself into an alcoholic because this fear was so bad, I couldn't manage it without getting drunk every night. Since I have (back in April), my worst fears have come true.

2 and a half weeks ago, my daughter (4) came home and told me that a friend at daycare had been sick all over the table. I panicked, of course, and kept her home the next day and planned to for the rest of the week.

It was too late. The next day, she told me she was "sick." I parked a bowl beside her and asked if she was going to be sick. She said yes. I didn't handle it perfectly. She asked me to sit beside her. I could not. She was sick about an hour later, into the bowl. As the night went on, she was sick about half a dozen times. At some point, I decided she needed me more than I needed to fear her illness and I held the bowl for her, and changed her sheets when she vomited on them, and stroked her hair after she was sick. She was OK by the next day.

I was still very fearful of getting the illness myself, so I washed my hands so many times, they bled. I was also worried about my 11 month old getting it. I tried to keep him away from her. But, overall, I felt ok with my phobia. I felt better than I had. I almost felt cured. I handled it and patted myself on the back for it.

Unfortunately, three days later, my son vomited in the car. Just the once, but I was immediately panicked. I felt like all the progress I made when my daughter was sick was gone. But, my fears paled in comparison to the parenting I needed to do. My son was upset. He was sick and scared. So, I went over and cleaned him up, wiped his face, comforted him. I was fearful for the rest of the night, but I managed to make it through the night.

Two days later, I was on an airplane to Toronto for a work conference. Once I arrived, I felt very nauseous and began to worry I would be sick. I called my husband and he sounded awful. He told me he was going to be sick, but hadn't yet. I realized then that we had not escaped it and I was going to be sick that night as well.

I went back to my hotel room and spent the next 8 hours alternating between being sick in the toilet and in the shower. I was violently ill, and nauseous all night. By 5 am, I could not handle it an longer and asked my step mom (who was travelling with me) to take me to the hospital. I continued to vomit at the hospital and eventually was given Gravol and Tofranil via injection. I didn't eat for two days. I called my husband in the morning and he too had been violently ill thru the night. My efforts to save myself from this flu were in vain.

Was it awful? It was exceptionally awful. Was it worse than I thought it would be? No. But, it was terrible. But, I realized that it would have been terrible whether I had emetohphobia or not. Being an emet just made it worse. It was like this mini-torture project, to take something that is already awful and make it worse by panicking and dreading and fearing. It was awful this time, it will be awful next time, and it will never be "fun." It was at that point I made a conscious decision to stop letting this fear rule me.

And it is a choice. I know so many of you do not veiw it as a choice, or are ready to accept that it is a choice. Some of you still need treatment, or medication, or time, to accept that this form of mental illness is under your control. I am not trying to be condescending, but I know that living with this fear is an option and I pray that you all one say realize that and can find a way to choose not to do this to yourselves.

I'm living by a new mantra - pain is inevitable. Misery is optional. I choose to no longer be miserable when it comes to this fear. I wish you all strength to overcome this.

I may be here again one day. I will never be a recovered emet. I will always be recovering. May you all be on the road to recovery.