(I’m in my third class of the day, with a teacher who doesn’t really like me. I start to feel terrible. I go to the teacher and ask if I can go to the office. This teacher looks at me, practically pale as a corpse, and says no, and that I’ll be fine. I manage to get to the next building over for my next class, where my teacher sees me before I even get to the classroom. She is horrified by my zombie-like appearance and immediately asks if I need to go to the office. I miraculously make it to a bin and proceed to vomit, hard. I finally get to the office, still feeling queasy.)
Receptionist: “If you want the bathroom key, you’ll have to wait. You should have gone at recess.”
Me: “Actually, I think I might puke on you.”
Receptionist: *looks up, eyes go wide* “I’ll just call your mother.”
(She calls my mother, who says she’ll come to get me. Meanwhile, I’m feeling more and more like I’ll vomit again.)
Me: “Can I please use the office toilets? I think I might be sick again.”
Receptionist: “No, but here’s a vomit bag.”
Me: “That’s not going to hold enough; I threw up a lot before. Please let me use the toilets.”
Receptionist: “No, you’ll have to go outside.”
(So, I trudge outside, out to the front of the school, and proceed to vomit all over their flower beds while cars drive by to witness the spectacle. By the time my mother arrives, I’m still outside, not puking anymore, though I still feel very sick.)
Mum: “What are you doing out here?!”
Me: “They wouldn’t let me use the toilets when I told them the barf bag wouldn’t cut it.”
(I could see she was mad as she walked into the office, but unfortunately, I have no idea what she said. We made it home without me being sick all over the car, but I still threw up a couple more times that day and had to take the next few days off school. When I went into the office on my first day back with my doctor’s note, the ladies were MUCH nicer to me, so I’m guessing whatever my mother said worked!)
