I Inadvertently Decide to Become a Steroid User

So, this weekend, my old nemesis returned in full force. That's right: strep throat. I consider myself a pretty healthy person with a high pain threshold, all neuroses aside. But when it comes to strep, I am a cowering schoolgirl, quivering behind closed drapes for good reason. Strep hates me. Strep wants to take me down. Strep knows what I did last summer, and the call was coming...from inside my throat.

Friday night, Andretta and I went for dinner. Afterwards, I was feeling a bit sleepy. A bit too sleepy. Instead of going right to bed, I stayed up to watch a movie. Bad idea. As soon as my head hit my pillow, I could feel that tickle in the back of my throat. That first tickle is strep laughing. I got on ok that night only because I buy the Halls cough drops that are sugar free so you can stick them to the top of your mouth and vaporact all night without worrying about tooth decay.

The next day, I was feeling well enough to sleep all day, though I could have also chosen to fry eggs on my superhot, super heat-conducting, fevered body. I was so hot the cat wouldn't come near me, and they run hotter than we do. I managed to eat a bit of food and decided that, if I wasn't better by Sunday, I'd go to the infirmary on Monday. That's the thing about G'ville: if you're sick on the weekend, you may well get financially screwed. By Saturday night, though, I figured I was going to die and should maybe go to the emergency room, even though I was really too weak to do so (no wonder they provide ambulances). I called Andretta, and she advised me to get the fever down. Since I was too weak to take a bath, I took an ice pack to bed and sort of systematically rubbed myself down.

This worked out well enough to hold me over to a Sunday "after-hours" clinic appointment. The clinic I went to was great. I used the same place last illness-plagued summer. It seems to be run solely by a receptionist and two redneck medical professionals, a doctor and nurse. Everybody was really kind and the doctor was really cute and really kind. I was surprised that I'd forgotten this, but the doctor's office sort of takes the flirt out of you. How do you flirt with a guy while asking him to examine your raw, pustulated throat through your almost certainly fetid breath? Yeah...not the sexiest proposition in the world. Anyway, he gave me a perscription for antibiotics and gave me one antibiotic shot and one steroid shot to make my uvula smaller. I should mention that a principal discomfort of this illness was that my uvula was like a t-bar down the back of my throat.

Yesterday, I felt well enough to clean up and disinfect most of my sick area, take out the trash, and do some laundry. I was really relieved that I didn't have to involve anyone in taking care of me, though I'm glad I have friends who volunteer to do so. Even so, when I'm really sick, I miss having someone. I want safety, prepared meals, and a cold washcloth on my head. Most of all, I want affection, love, and, oddly enough, the sex-based (versus the mom-based) kind. Who knew?