Felt Sick, But Now Feeling Fine

So I started off yesterday/Saturday having an American brunch with my parents, and I felt fine.  Then I went to this big event and, even though my stomach felt a bit oogy, I nibbled on a few things and felt fine enough.  I then treated myself to a big post-event dinner in St. Paul, and I had the same thing (food and drink) I had when I went there last year, and I didn't think it was too much or bad for my gastrointestinal system, but that's when I felt the urge to, you know, relieve myself.  But I thought I could tough it out to the bank and the gas station before heading home.

I was able to do all that and get home -- barely.  I had to go so bad that I immediately went to the bathroom, whereby I tried to poop, then did, but felt that I had shit some more, but couldn't.  And my body got real hot, a level of uncomfortable warmth I don't ever remember feeling.  It was not hot or humid outside, but I was burning up.  I began to sweat profusely.  And I started to panic; I noticed that there was no way for me to open the window in the bathroom (it's a long story, and maybe I'll blog post about it) and I felt like I wanted to scream.  My gut and GI tract were killing me.  And still I wasn't excreting as much as I thought it would.  You ever have that feeling of relief, if not euphoria, after a huge bowel movement?  I was banking on that, but it didn't happen for me.

I thought I was done, wasn't, went back into the bathroom, and didn't shit at all.  When I felt like my insides were no longer going to imminently cave in on me, I went back into my bedroom, turned on the fan, crept underneath my blanket, and passed out.

I woke up about three hours later (and totally missed Liga MX, which I had on the TV this whole time) ... and I feel fine.  Well, I still feel fat and as if I am still carrying a lot of human waste inside of me that I shouldn't.  But the sweats are gone, as is the intestinal distress and the feeling that I am about to go crazy.  I don't think I'm out of the woods quite yet, but I can now think about just what the hell happened to me.  It couldn't have been the brunch, could it?  Or was it the cheese during the party?  Or was it all the pork bellies I had for dinner?  Or was it a combination of those three occasions, or food poisoning, or something else?