I have had the plague for at least two weeks now. It came on slow and unassuming. Last night I think it peaked, complete with sky high temperatures and a visit to the urgent care center because I was actually scared of my body temperature.
People: there is nothing less interesting than hearing someone describe their illness to you. Nothing. So, allow me to do so anyhow. Please read in your most monotone Ben Stein voice.
I had a low grade fever. For about a week. Just enough to make me not want to engage in my usual bouts of crime and sky diving yet not enough to make me call in sick to work. Then, Tuesday night it hit. Hard. Chills, fever, throat swollen shut, the whole bit. Finally Wednesday, after utilizing every homeopathic option at my local co-op, I caved and went to the 99999 cent store (aka The Clinic) and sat for almost three hours to secure three minutes of quality time with the doctor, Dr. Roman. Almost every time I see a doc, it is the first and the last time. Not that I hate them or anything, I just don’t go frequently enough or live in one place long enough to develop those close personable relationships I hear about on TV.
So, Roman determined I had strep throat…or not. Roman didn’t seem to sure. Either way, I was allowed to purchase a large bottle of thirty red pills I get to take for the next ten days.
I went home, started my dosage. Then the worst thing happened. I got a crazy high fever. I dunno what it was at the highest, cause I fell asleep with the thermometer in my mouth. It was almost fun. I mean, those fevers are like a strange high people must pay heavily for on the streets. Of course, minus all the shivering and whatnot.
Shook. Froze. Sweated. All night long. Seemingly simultaneously. Woke up this morning with a seal shut throat and no will power to drive The Max to school. It’s a bit sad when your kid begs you to get out of bed so they can enjoy public education and you really want to tell them to shove off and embrace a job in physical labor.
Anyhow, either the red pills are doing their job or I am in a hallucinated state which allows me to believe I am sitting upright and typing. Regardless, I am looking forward to dancing with the rabbit on the coffee table.