Dave groaned and squirmed in his seat next to you on the flight. He felt his insides twisting around and around. He reached for your hand and squeezed it.
Of course he had to get food poisoning before getting on a long haul flight to Europe for the Foo fighters Europe tour.
"Are you sure you'll be ok David?" You asked
He shook his head. He was getting worse by the minute.
"Do you need to used to use the bathroom?" You asked.
Dave nodded and quickly got up and ran into the small airplane toilet. Thankfully Dave's stomach only purged from one end and not the other. (Although Dave almost preferred vomiting over pooping lest his body ever let him.)
You waited patiently until Dave returned. He soon came back holding his stomach and looking even worse.
"Oh Dave you really don't look good." You said worriedly as he came back to his seat.
"I feel like shit." He says as he collapses into his seat. You hand him a blanket and he curls up with it and falls asleep kinda. He was mostly struggling to get comfortable and he was sweating a lot too. Clearly running a fever. You hoped he'd be better by the time you'd all land.
Unfortunately it was a very long flight and Dave was unable to sleep. He looked miserable and he kept getting up to use the restroom.
Each time he came back he looked worse and worse.
"Oh Davey come here." You say as you open your arms to him after he returns from the bathroom for the thirtieth time.
He curled up next to you and he grabs your hand. You wrap your arms around his bubbling middle. He groaned in pain and burped.
"You feeling any better?" You ask. He shakes his head and closes his eyes trying to sleep.
Later on.
Dave was only getting sicker and sicker by the minute and he looked it too. His stomach hurt so much. He couldn't stay still and still had to use the bathroom a lot. By the time you landed the next day. Dave was super miserable and could barely stand. The Foo fighters manager Gus called a doctor to the hotel as soon as everyone got off the plane.
Once at the hotel you get Dave comfy in bed and the doctor hooks him up to IV fluids, and gives him a anti-diarrheal pill. You set up the hotel room trash can as a puke bucket on the off chance Dave does throw up. Which he does only twenty minuntes after you set up the puke bucket. Dave groans and coughs up into the trash can as you hold it under his mouth.
"Aw Dave You poor thing." You say worriedly as you rub his back as he pukes. Dave's poor body is shaking from the fever. After wiping the puke off his face and getting him comfy again. You curl up with Dave in bed. Grateful the girls are old enough to be in a room connected to your hotel suite so they can all have privacy away from their sickly father.
Shows had to be postponed and Dave wasn't happy about that. He would have petered working through it. But you and the doctor decided it wasn't a good idea. Dave was pissed but he felt so bad and agreed.
It was a long few days until Dave fully recovered but once he was better the Europe tour could officially begin.
