Retching (also known as dry heaving) is the reverse movement (peristalsis) of the stomach and esophagus without vomiting. It can be caused by bad smell or choking, or by withdrawal from some medications after vomiting stops. Retching can also be as a result of an emotional response or from stress which produces the same physical reaction. The function is thought to be mixing gastric contents with intestinal refluxate in order to buffer the former and give it momentum in preparation of vomiting. Treatments include medication and correction of the fluid and electrolyte balance.
The retching phase is characterized by a series of violent spasmodic abdomino-thoracic contractions with the glottis closed. During this time, the inspiratory (inhalatory) movements of the chest wall and diaphragm are opposed by the expiratory contractions of the abdominal musculature. At the same time, movements of the stomach and its contents take place. Whereas a patient will complain of disagreeable sensations during nausea, speech is not possible during retching. The characteristic movements furnish a ready diagnostic sign of the retching phase. Schindler (1937) studied retching on two occasions during gastroscopy and noted that longitudinal folds appeared in the previously smooth antrum, thickened quickly, came together and completely closed the antrum. Retching involves a deep inspiration against a closed glottis. This, along with contraction of the abdomen, leads to a pressure difference between the abdominal and thoracic cavities. As a result, the stomach and gastric contents are displaced upwards toward the thoracic cavity.
I Was Drinking Beer, Then I Was Drinking Jager
I Know I Shouldn't Mix The Two, I Always Pay Later
But That's Just Beside The Point, What Is Done Is Done
Now I'm Hurting Real Bad And I've Got The Runs
I Hate The Dry Heaves, I Hate Dry Heaves
I Hate The Dry Heaves, I Hate Dry Heaves
I Was Talking To You Then I Was On The Ground
When I Shut My Eyes, Everything Spun Around
When I'm So Fucked Up, I Forget Where I Am
I Feel So Bad, I Puked In Your Van
Gut-Wrenching Spasms That Just Won't Stop
Trying To Squeeze Out Just One Last Drop
My Gut Tied In Knots, Nothing Left Inside
Thank You So Much For Giving Me A Ride
I Hate The Dry Heaves, I Hate Dry Heaves
I Hate The Dry Heaves, I Hate Dry Heaves
Lyrics: Brecht