Tag Archives: illness

That which was no fun at all

I went through that crazy period of time where I just wasn’t feeling very well.  My doctor had put me on one course of antibiotics, which helped a great deal but didn’t get me to 100% awesomeness.  After a while, I paid her another visit.  She was sympathetic, and gave me a prescription for a super-duper antibiotic, with instructions that I didn’t need it.  Now.  But if, without really getting 100% better, I got worse, I would have it to fill and wouldn’t have to visit her again.

Well, I got mostly better.  Never really shook a sniffle, but I felt better than I had for quite a while.

Then Friday…. I woke up with a touch of a sore throat.  Kinda like you get if you sleep in a weird position with your mouth open.  But then by mid-afternoon, I was definitely not feeling well.  Took a rest on the couch for awhile, woke up with a bit of a temperature.  Took it easy the rest of the day, took some Tylenol and went to bed early.

Woke up Saturday (at like 1:00 pm !!!) and swore someone must have shoved glass down my throat while I was sleeping.  Managed to look at my tonsils and they were coated in white puss.  Fever got up near 102.  I was alternating between violent chills and sweating spells.  Lightheaded, nauseated, and slightly delirious, I called my doctor, to sort of realize she’s a one-doctor office, and she’s not there on Saturday afternoons.  Explored options for urgent care clinics in my area.  There’s a good pediatric one, but they only take patients up to 21 years old.  Called the two they mentioned, but neither was open, which seemed odd and made me realize they were less of “urgent care” and more of “walk-in because you don’t have insurance and a regular general practitioner”.  Waiting until Monday wasn’t an option, and the very thorough symptom checker at the Mayo Clinic web site left me convinced that since I could check off just about every strep throat symptom, plus lacking normal signs of a cold or the flu, that strep was a reasonable conclusion, and I sent Frank to fill that prescription that had laid in wait in my purse for three weeks.  He also got me lots of yogurt and probiotic supplements to counteract any antibiotic-related digestive ills, sweet man.

Saturday evening I thought I was going to die.  Not only was my throat completely raw, but I felt like every time I dozed off that I stopped breathing, and I would jerk awake in a panic.  My breathing was labored, or so I felt… I asked Frank to pay close attention and he said it didn’t seem like I was working very hard to breathe (meaning I didn’t seem to be having trouble) and that when I did doze off, I was breathing then, too.  I wanted to go to the bathroom but felt too lightheaded to walk and made Frank walk with me.  I was convinced my lips would be blue from lack of oxygen, but they looked fine.  I looked quite flush and healthy right then, actually, which just wigged me out more.  I decided I was more delirious and just went to bed.  For 12 hours.

Sunday, more general miserableness, but I actually ate (but only motivated by taking antibiotics and needing to take them on a full stomach).

Monday, more humanness returned, but going up the stairs in our house made me want to take a nap. I cooked a simple dinner (something my mom made all the time when I was a kid… I obviously was in need of some comfort!)

Today, finally, almost normal.  Still pretty tired and worn-out feeling, but my throat has only a smidge of a hint of hurting.

I do NOT want to do that again, thank you very much.

In other, more interesting and less grody news, my application for school is complete, and is part-way through the review process.  My contact at the admissions department is super cool and is keeping me apprised.  My coursework has all been reviewed for proper content (I don’t have the results yet — don’t know if I have any catch-up to do in the general education area, but I’m very confident I have enough business coursework for the content area) and is now just awaiting the final review to decide if I’m “in”.  So that’s cool, and nerve-wracking.

Selectively embracing research

We’ve been staying with Frank’s parents for the last week and a half while we beat our own new house into shape.  It’s coming along, and I think we’re actually going to sleep there tomorrow night.  Yay!

One thing I’ve noticed about my mother in-law lately is how she only selectively believes “research”.  Mostly, if something goes against the firmly-held superstitions old wives’ tales beliefs she has, then the research is simply dismissed out of hand.  If, however, she gets junk mail that says eating cream cheese is good for your kidneys, then she would find a way to incorporate cream cheese into her next twelve meals, and insist we all eat it too.

I cannot convince her that:

Cold feet do not cause colds. She makes Jake wear slippers every minute he’s in her house, because he might walk on the tile floor in the kitchen and his feet would get cold, and then he’d get sick.  Even when it’s 80 degrees out, like today.

Sitting too close to the TV will not cause brain damage. Maybe a little temporary eye strain, but it will not give you cancer or brain damage.  She firmly suspects being too close to a TV can cause a variety of ills.

Men determine the gender of babies. She understands the basic science, I think.  But she still insists that the mother must have something to do with it, too.  Like with enough will, their cervixes can block out all Y-chromosome sperm or something?

The slippers thing is the most exasperating.  I don’t really fight her on it.  She buys the slippers for my kids, and puts them on their feet.  And it’s not like it’s detrimental for them to have warm feet.  But I never insist that the kids wear them against their will.  But she’s crazy-insistent on it sometimes.  Because, if they got a cold (assuming even for a second that having non-toasty feet is virus-inducing) it would be the Worst Thing Ever.  But then in the next breath will imply I’m overprotective because I insist the kids use car seats (even in Aruba, where they’re not even required so why would I bother?!?) and didn’t want to use the crib they saved from when Frank was a baby, with every modern crib-safety violation on the books.  These are things that could be the difference between life and death, and I’m silly.  But slippers to prevent a sniffle are requisite.  I don’t get it!

I always knew he could do it

(Preface: right now in our temp apartment, we are all sharing a bedroom. Lane’s bed, our bed, and Jake’s crib are all resident in one bedroom.  It’s not ideal, but it’s working well enough, and it’s slightly pertinent to this post to I wanted to make sure you knew.)

I’m sick.  Not like at-death’s-door sick, but death-sent-me-an-email sick.  A bit of nausea (and a lot of revisiting the slice of pizza I had for lunch) and chilly like crazy.  Our thermostat is at 69 and I’m still sitting here in fuzzy pants and slippers and the coziest biggest thickest sweater I own, plus I have a down blanket wrapped around me.  Digestively, something is… happening.  I’m not sure what but my imagination is running rampant and I will spare you the details of that.

I always do Jake’s bedtime.  Always.  The boy is a boob fanatic, and has always nursed to sleep.  Lately though, there’s been a willingness on his part to lay in his crib after nursing and not (constantly) scream his head off.  We have a very flat pillow in there, and I’ve found that rubbing the pillow seems to settle him and convince him it’s a great thing to put his head on.  And, in the absence of most other noise he’ll drift off to sleep.

So, ‘upgrading’ my illness to death-called-and-we-chatted-awhile, I laid a bit of a guilt trip on Frank and he mostly took care of parenting this evening.  He gave Lane a bath after she had a poop accident (because watching Sleeping Beauty with a small interruption is worse than poop in your pants?  I don’t get that) and then I nursed Jake while Lane got her bedtime stories, put him in his crib, and promptly told Frank to take over.

And lo and behold, sleep was achieved… by all of them.  Frank included.

Out of surgery

Dad’s dog Ginger ended up getting surgery today to remove what the vet is now calling a tumor, though we have not yet heard if it is malignant or benign.

Ginger’s ten years old so just having surgery presents its worries, but so far the word is that she did well in surgery and is doing well in recovery.

More news as it comes in.

Waiting and worrying

While I was home in Buffalo, my brother discovered a lump in Ginger’s mouth, just behind her bottom teeth.  Ginger is our family’s dog, who we got a year before my mom died.  I guess ‘officially’ she is my brother’s dog, but she lives with my dad and he is primarily responsible for her care.

Dad took Ginger to the vet today and so far it’s being called a “mass”.  The vet wouldn’t commit to calling it “not a tumor.”  They did some blood work today and Dad has to take her back tomorrow for a few more tests.

Oh, sigh.  I do hope it turns out to be something minor.  But… Ginger’s ten years old, which is fairly well-on in years for a labrador retriever.  Still, is it awful to want her sweet face around for a couple more years?