I hit enter before I can talk myself out of it.
Immediately, a list of medical sites appears, each one promising either reassurance or death depending on how alarmed I feel like being.
I choose the least offensive one.
Stress. Anxiety. Gastrointestinal upset. Lack of sleep. Dehydration. Rich food. Hormonal changes. Viral illness.
Not too bad. All relatively normal.
I scroll.
The screen swims slightly, and I blink hard.
I refine the search.
Nausea in morning, anxiety
More results.
I read some more and start feeling a bit reassured.
Stress can trigger nausea. Anxiety can cause stomach upset. Emotional distress can affect digestion.
About what I figured.
I am not sick. I am not dying. I am not having a reaction to my self-induced stress. Just some regular anxiety.
A reasonable conclusion, considering I spent yesterday asking the internet whether the man who made me come so hard I saw the heavens might also be a murderer.
I close that tab.
Then reopen it.
Because apparently, I hate feeling peaceful and reassured.
I type another search before I can stop myself.
Morning nausea, no fever, woman
The results this time are vastly different.
My pulse trips over itself.
I stare at the screen.
No.
Absolutely not.
No, no, no.
I click nothing because I do not need to click anything.
I know what the internet is going to suggest, because the internet has exactly one answer for someone with nausea, lightheadedness, and a uterus.
Pregnancy.
The word is not even fully visible yet, just bolded in a preview halfway down the page, and my whole body goes cold.
