I Think My Husband Had the Stomach Virus

My poor husband drank three beers on Friday night. Before bed, his stomach started to hurt, but he was smart enough not to tell me about it to prevent me from panicking. Then at 4:30 in the morning, he was talking to me about this and that, then he said he really felt like he had to puke. Of course, we assumed it was the three beers he took with his daily vitamin and then fish oil capsules, so I didn't worry. So then he went to the downstairs bathroom, made himself puke, and then it started to happen on its own...many times. He came back upstairs and told me his felt better. The next day his stomach still didn't feel "right." He was careful with what he ate, and basically slept all day. This started to make me wonder if it really was the three beers, and then I started to panic. I started to keep away from him as much as possible, and then started taking some leftover anti-nausea pills I had from my surgery last October. I went to bed on the couch (which he had sat on throughout the day) because I figured it was less-contaminated than the bad. Then in the middle of the night I woke up and felt "off." I ran to my drug drawer, took a Xanax, and thankfully fell asleep within minutes. Today he has more energy, and is spending the day on the couch, watching TV, and Skyping his brother. I'm making chicken noodle soup from scratch. I'm lying in wait. A constant feat travels underneath my facade.