Friday, June 4, 2010

It's like a sickness. Or it actually is one.

I woke up today not feeling so great.  Like, unable to swallow not great [poor husband, it's like he never wins].

I went to the doctor and found out I have strep throat & double ear infections.  Who loves antibiotics?  I DO!  Hooray for modern medicine.  Also hooray for delicious beverages and naptime and working from home.  Why do I want a "real" job again?  Besides the steady paycheck?  And benefits?

I stopped at Target to get my prescription filled and was looking for a lemon scented air freshener while I was waiting and ended up spilling air freshener juice all over my hand.  Which made me livid because what the fuck, air freshener manufacturers, you can't keep that shit contained? What are you, BP?

So then I spent about 10 minutes in the Target bathroom washing my hands like Lady Macbeth, knowing that the people who kept coming in and out were wondering about the crazy woman constantly washing her hands and muttering to herself, and knowing that they weren't close to wrong in thinking that I had some issues.

Also, when I go to the doctor, I wonder why some of the assistants don't tell you stuff like your temperature or your blood pressure or your heart rate when they take it.  Is it a secret?  Am I not supposed to know? Will I use this information for evil? I mean, I might, but they don't know for sure, right?  Shouldn't they give me the benefit of the doubt?  Or are they thinking that by not telling me my blood pressure, they are complying with the new HIPAA laws?

I told my husband about being sick and he suggested resting before he lambasted me for kissing him yesterday and trying to spread my germs like Typhoid Mary.  I thought I was the only one who got to yell at people for them getting me sick.  That seems unfair, like he's usurping my territory or trying to become me a la Single White Female.  I've got my eye on him.

O.k., now I have to go to a meeting that's already been rescheduled once this week.  I'm hoping it won't take long.  Maybe I'll paint dark shadows under my eyes and make myself look really washed out.  Wait, I don't have to, it's already there.

Lucky me.


  1. Seriously, they do act like your health is a total fucking secret they are keeping from you for your own good. I always get scared because they take all the pressure/temp/height/weight, etc and then they look at me and ask "is it always this way?" HUH? Is what always this way? Then they respond "This low?" And for the love of god I don't know what the hell they're talking about and when I ask they just shake their heads and leave the room. So now I've just decided I must be one of the walking dead, which means I don't need the damn doctor.
    Hope you feel better soon!!! Tell your husband that as long his legs are still attached he needs to wait on you!

  2. They never tell you because they're afraid you'll ask what it means and then they'll have to bluff and they might be caught out. The only thing medical people fear more than not being paid is being made to appear less than omniscient.
    Hope you feel better soon.

  3. Tonya, I hope being the living walking dead brings you more perks than just not having to see the doctor. I think you should really push the envelope and see what it'll bring you!

    Kyknoord, I like your explanation. Ring of truth for sure.

  4. I'd feel much better about the world-ending spill in the Gulf if lemon-scented air fresheners were washing up on the shore instead of tar balls.

  5. I know. It's too much for me to even deal with. I can't even think about it too long, it's so fucking depressing.


Every time you comment, I get a lady boner.