Dad's birthday, evening
It's a good thing Dad had someone besides me to eat his birthday dinner with.
I woke up from my nap suffering from acute gastric distress, only willing to rise from my bed of pain to perform certain necessary actions in the wee bathroom that was mercifully close.
I made Dad leave me to go to the Grand Circle Cocktail Hour in the Observation Lounge, and go to dinner with Pat and Tony as planned. Then I called the doctor's office on board and they sent up Brian the Irish Nurse. I would have appreciated his adorable accent more if I had been in better health overall. Part of his routine was to ask me to fill out a form stating what I'd eaten recently and where, and the moment he saw the Crowne Plaza Santiago on my paper he said I didn't need to fill out any more.
Apparently there are eight or ten other folks from our group prostrated with the same symptoms, and the likeliest culprit is yesterday's breakfast buffet. I'm very glad Dad and I got the Hepatitis A vaccine last year!
Darling Brian told me to order a pitcher of water from Room Service and make half-strength Gatorade with the packet of mix he left me. Then he gave me a lovely injection that stopped half my trouble (and some Immodeum to stop the other half). The injection knocked me straight out, which was just fine with me.