Back vs Stomach

This morning I had the 0715 shift report time. The cafeteria opens at...earlier than 700, so I was able to go in and get a mixture of oats and yogurt and a couple muffins for the road. Oh, and rice krispies. So, I take my little red tray of food and decide to just stay on the bottom floor of the cafeteria instead of ascending to the second floor this morning, to save time and energy, and pain in my back. I tenderly lower my body at a table by my lonesome and I'm facing an older gentleman who is sitting, faced to my left. I chomp away diligently at my morning meal and don't think of much. I think of how I really love 'yoats' and how my back is quite tender and just try not to move more than my mouth. I hear the older gentleman make a coughing noise. No big deal.

A man and woman enter with their little red trays and set them down, a seat away and across from the left-facing gentleman in the orange toque. The man and woman left their trays to go get some jam and in the mean time, the orange-tipped man continued his hacking until he turned quickly and vomited in the trash can gratefully right behind him...ungratefully directly in my view. I think I paused...every muscle below my forehead and above my belly button, deciding what to decide to do about my current predicament, as he continued vomiting a few more times. As my eyes were in a moment of indecision, they continued witnessing his convulsing heaves. I peeled my eyes away and cast them toward my own food.

Here was the moment where I had to mediate between back and stomach.

"Ow," said my stomach.

"Ow, don't even think about it," said my back.

Why move seats when I was almost done eating just to get up, move, sit again, finish and then get up again, move again, etc. It was just too much to bear. My stomach was quickly disciplined and I let my back be the victor.

The other man came back and witnessed some of the vomiting and looked at me. I'm not sure what my face told him, but he kept looking at the vomiter, his food and myself, and it made me laugh. Not out loud, but enough to comminucate that I too was undone. but I also felt bad for the guy! It's no fun to vomit. And why oh why was he still stuffing froot loops and yogurt into his stomach if it was rejecting the thrown-out waffle being finely coated in syrupy vomit?

I don't know. I commanded my stomach to finish the yoats and I took my muffins, my red tray and my back out of the dining area.

Well, lessoned learned: go upstairs to eat.