Rumors of my demise…

are greatly moderately somewhat exaggerated.

To recap:
Saturday (last Saturday), I woke up feeling woozy. As the day progressed, this turned into a headache, sore throat and backache. Sunday the conditions worsened, and Monday my tonsils were so swollen it made breathing difficult. Kaiser being Kaiser, I couldn’t get a doctor’s appointment to save my life (literally), so I called in Ma and the big guns, and together we managed to wrangle me into a doctor’s office.

The doctor took one look in my throat at my bacteria-enrobed tonsils and said, I kid you not, “holy shit!” and proceeded to tell me that it was a good thing I came in when I did. I neglected to mention that if Ma weren’t a fairly high-level administrator at Kaiser and renowned as the Angel of Death, I wouldn’t have seen him when I did. Anywho, he did a mono test and gave me a shot of rocephin (antibiotic) in the ass and prescriptions for vicodin and penicillin (sadly, not in the ass) and told me to return on Wednesday if I didn’t feel better.

Well, the rocephin did wonders in reducing my tonsils. Sadly, the bug was penicillin resistant, so I didn’t feel anywhere near better on Wednesday and my tonsils swelled back up. And the vicodin, being a narcotic, interfered with my breathing reflex, so I’d be lying down, wondering why my nails were turning blue.

On Wednesday I called for a follow up since I still felt like crap. Lo and behold, Kaiser’s phone lines were down, so I was unable to make an appointment, or get my lab results, or let out a primal scream in someone’s ear.

So Ma carted me off to the urgent care at the local Kaiser hospital. Kaiser again being Kaiser, the urgent care was mislabeled, so we had to walk all over Creation to find it, which is wonderful when your brain isn’t getting enough oxygen as it is.

Bullied my way into urgent care, and got seen by a doctor who clearly had had better days. Usually when I tell medical personnel that I’m an EMT they’ll speak geek to me. This douchebag kept explaining what an antibiotic was. So, after both Ma and I insisted I wouldn’t leave without new antibiotics and painkillers that didn’t try to suffocate me, he finally ordered new drugs and another shot in the ass of rocephin.

Slowly but surely I got better over Thursday and Friday and Saturday, and by Sunday I felt like a human being again.

Joy for the missing of an entire week of classes.

Oh, and, newscasters? Hurricane Rita isn’t going anywhere near New Orleans. No projection for the past 48 hours has shown it even hitting Louisiana at all. So stop capitalizing on people’s misery by trying to insinuate Rita’s gonna re-rape New Orleans. And go digging somewhere fruitful, like Karl Rove’s garbage.

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