Len flopped down on his bed with a heavy sigh. It had been a long day. He pulled each of his shoes off lazily and tossed them on the floor in front of him. He stared up at the ceiling as he lied on his bed, thinking about the day.
It had started out alright. He woke up at a decent time, and got ready fast enough to have time to watch TV before he left for school. First period was fine, though it was monday and everyone was complaining. The trouble started around second period, when his friend, who had a cooking class first period, offered him the rest of his "gluten free muffin". The quotes are necessary, because it didn't take long for Len to figure out that it was not actually gluten free. His friend said he didn't like how it tasted and the dryness was too much for him. Len was used to eating foods that many people considered to be bland because of the lack of gluten, and since he was used to it, it didn't bother him. But as he sat down in second period, he felt his stomach start to gurgle and groan uncomfortably, and he knew that the muffin was not gluten free. For a moment he was worried he might have a severe allergic reaction, because he started to feel hot and lightheaded, but the feeling faded almost as quickly as it started. He nervously sat in his desk, waiting to see what his body would do. Normally when he accidentally ate something that had gluten in it, he got a headache and felt bloated or had an upset stomach. Sometimes he broke out in hives, but they've never been able to pinpoint if there's a specific food that did it, a certain amount of gluten he'd eaten, or anything else that could have caused it. As far as his family knows, it's random. Len hoped he hadn't broken out in hives, because it was very noticeable when he did, just not to him. He broke out on his face and the back of his neck the last time, and his mom had told him she saw it on his back once before when he was little, though every other time he's had that kind of reaction, he always had a shirt on. Unfortunately, he had reactions more often than he could help, because gluten is so commonly found in foods, and gluten free flour coming into contact with regular flour is also unfortunately common, at least for him. They use both at his house, and sometimes his mom mixes up the bags. Len's just gotten used to having the reactions. They're still just as unpleasant each time they occur, but he's able to manage them on his own just fine. As long as he doesn't feel like he is about to have a severe reaction, which warrants a hospital visit. He hadn't had a reaction that bad since he was little, and he hoped he would never have one again. Just in case, the school permitted him to carry around an epipen. It could potentially save his life if he ever goes into anaphylactic shock.
Luckily, he didn't have a severe reaction. But by third period, his head was pounding, and his stomach was killing him. He went to the restroom in between class changes, because at that point he felt like throwing up and he didn't think puking in the hallway would be a good idea. He stopped in front of the mirror to check and see if he had hives anywhere. He didn't find any on his face, though someone would have pointed it out if there were any and he would be in the office instead of in class. He was supposed to go to the office if he ever thought he was having a reaction, but he's had a couple in school before, and he ended up being fine. The only time he ever went to the office was his freshman year, when his friend gave him a cookie at lunch, and without thinking about it, he ate it. It was only seconds after he finished it that he promptly threw up all over the table and was sent home after explaining he was alright, then was driven to the doctors by his parents after their worry got the better of them. Thankfully his friends forgave him for barfing on their lunchboxes. It's not like they could blame him for getting sick anyway.
He inspected his body the best that he could do, and he couldn't find any hives anywhere. He sighed and stepped into a stall, locking the door. He crouched over the toilet, waiting for the nausea to kick in again. His stomach gurgled furiously, angrily fighting the muffin he ate earlier. He closed his eyes as he leaned over the toilet, hoping it would be over with soon. Unfortunately for him, the nausea came back full force, but he wasn't able to throw up. He eventually sat down on the floor because crouching became too tiring. He didn't even care that he was missing class at that point.
Eventually, he heard footsteps echoing through the bathroom. He waited to hear a stall door open and close, but it didn't. Instead, someone knocked on his stall door.
"Len? Are you in there?" It was his teacher.
Len tried to clear his throat without making much noise, but ended up making himself cough. Coughing was dangerously close to turning into gagging, so he sat up quickly and knelt over the toilet again.
"Yeah…" he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Len, you're twenty minutes late to class," his teacher said. He was expecting him to get upset, but instead he said, " Are you alright?" Len hesitated a moment before answering. He didn't know if he should be honest and say he wasn't feeling well, or make something up. He figured saying anything other than, "I literally can't leave the bathroom right now or I'll puke" would get him in trouble for skipping class, so he said just that.
"No," he mumbled again. "I feel like I'm gonna throw up…" He shook his head, sighing silently. It embarrassed him when he had to tell people he was sick. He didn't know why, it just did. Thankfully there was a wall between them, and he didn't have to look at his teacher as he said it. That made him feel a little bit more comfortable.
"Do you think it was something you ate?" his teacher asked. "Or do you think you're ill?" Again, to make something up or tell the truth, that is the question.
"I…" He didn't end up answering, because at that moment his stomach decided that it had enough of that muffin and he began vomiting violently. He struggled to breathe between heaves, gasping for air at every possible moment.
He was done throwing up fairly quickly, but he still felt nauseated. He glanced down at what just came out of him, curious to see for whatever reason. He could identify the poppy seeds from the muffin, but the rest of it was just an ugly colored liquid. The sight of it made him retch again, but nothing came up. He squeezed his eyes shut and flushed the toilet, panting heavily. He wiped his mouth with toilet paper and threw it into the toilet as it was flushing. He heard another knock on the door.
"Do you think you can make it down to the nurse's office?" his teacher asked. Len flushed red in embarrassment. He totally forgot his teacher was standing there, listening to him throw up. He wanted to die to escape the embarrassment.
"I don't know…" he muttered. He still felt nauseous and sick. He wasn't sure if he would throw up again though, since it took so long the first time.
"I'll grab a trash can and then we'll head down," he teacher replied, and Len could hear the footsteps leaving the room. Oh great. His teacher was going to escort him to the nurse's office. Yay.
He let out a loud, resonating belch rather than a retch, which in his opinion was the lesser of two evils. The burp brought a little bit of relief, actually. His stomach felt a little lighter afterwards.
He heard the footsteps clacking against the tile floor again and internally sighed. He didn't feel quite as nauseous as before, thankfully, so he was able to stand up without so much worry that he would be sick. He unlocked the door before his teacher could knock and he stepped out, looking up at him miserably. His teacher looked at him with furrowed brows.
"What happened, Bud?" he asked. "Were you feeling bad for a while now? Or did you just start feeling sick all of the sudden?"
"For a while," he answered softly. He didn't feel like explaining what happened. He just wanted to get downstairs and make as little conversation as possible.
His teacher nodded. "You should have gone to the nurse when it first started," he replied. Len shrugged. He didn't want to argue.
His teacher handed him the trash can, which had a new bag in it, and ushered him out of the bathroom with one hand on his shoulder. Len walked quicker than he wanted to in order to get downstairs faster.
Once they reached the office, the attendant immediately got nervous when she saw Len holding the trash can so close to his head. She didn't deal well with vomit, so seeing him like that freaked her out a bit.
She pointed down the hall. "The nurse is the third door on the right," she said. Len nodded and began walking down the hall, rolling his eyes at her after he passed. He couldn't blame her for having emetophobia, but it was a little annoying that the person who directs sick people to the nurse had emetophobia. It's the little things you don't think about before getting a job.
He knocked on the door to the nurse's office and waited for her to open it. The nurse opened her door after a few seconds had passed and she smiled down at Len.
"Hey champ, what seems to be the problem?" She knew he was nauseated because of the trashcan he was holding, but she liked to let the students tell her what was wrong just in case there was anything else they wanted to mention.
"Reaction," was all he said and the nurse widened her eyes. She pulled him into the room and made him sit down on the bed. She pulled out an epipen from her desk and pulled the cap off, getting ready to give it to him. Len widened his eyes.
"Woah, hold on, I'm not going into shock, it's okay," he said quickly. The nurse ignored him and grabbed his arm, stabbing the needle into him. She pumped the medicine into his arm and then removed the needle. She capped it and set it on her desk.
"Even if you don't need it, the consequences of taking the medicine unnecessarily far outway the consequences of not taking the medicine when you ended up needing it," she said. Len let out a shaky breath. What she just pumped into his arm was adrenaline, and he could feel his heart start to race. The medicine helped if he ever went into anaphylactic shock, but if he wasn't, then he would just get light headed and have shortness of breath. He still got that even if he needed the medicine, but in this case it was unnecessary to feel it. He took a few shaky breaths and tried to breathe deeper. His hands began to shake a little. The nurse instructed him to lie down and relax for a few minutes. Because she gave him the shot, she had to call his parents and 911. She had to do that even if she didn't give him the shot, because a reaction could lead to him needing hospitalization.
Len sighed as he realized what was happening. He was going to the hospital again.