Rumor has it, hospitals are absolutely riddled with sick people. The ICU was no exception, and I ended coming home from visiting my sister, with a little something extra.
I think I was pretty safe while I was in Linda’s room, because I was all garbed up in isolation wear, complete with lilac gloves, but I had to strip the protective wear off when I left to use the bathroom, and I think I was mugged by a nasty little germ lying in wait.
I got sick the day I left. Really sick. The “I’m willing to break my once a year streak and see a Doctor,” kind of sick.
See, it even affected my brain.
Of course, I waited a week to see if it would go away. Turns out this particular bug was happy to have relocated to San Diego, and it planned on staying put. In fact it had been inviting relatives and rock star germ groupies to join it.
So I succumbed, and took myself to Urgent Care.
I’m not much of a Doctor-going person, which makes me guilty of hypocrondria absentia, I suppose, and when I signed in, I discovered that medical professionals are somewhat alarmed if your medical paper trail is years old.
As we all sat waiting our turn to be seen, the people in the waiting room kept giving me the evil eye when I coughed. Granted, my cough was
deep, non-productive, and frequent, but that was one of the reasons I was there. That, and the desire to breathe. Had I not had laryngitis, I would have said, “Really people? Like you’re so well?”
I don’t know if it was the coughing, my lips developing a blue tint, or the sheer desire of the medical staff to avoid having to clean up the waiting room after the evil-eyers became violent, but they called me in relatively quickly.
The Doctor was pretty quick at sizing up the situation. “Let’s see what is going on in your throat,” he said, after listening to my lungs. “Say Ah.”
“Hummmm,” he exclaimed.
Turns out I’ll live. I have Asthmatic Bronchitis. The nurse seemed a little nonplussed when she handed over all the prescriptions the Doctor had filled out, saying, “This should kill anything and everything!’
I have a feeling that the Pharmacist will finally be able to fund that trip to a Mexican Resort, and the pharmacy will be able to add that wing they’ve been needing.
Here is my medication booty. This is more medication than I have had in over six years.
Wish me well….literally…..wish me well. I can use all the help I can get.
