Still Sick Over Here...

By the time Thursday rolled around, my cold was getting worse and it was complicated by a swollen gland or lymph node (I'm not a doctor, so I don't know) under my chin that made it hard to chew. Sadly, my scheduled trip to the doctor proved to be humiliating and of little help. Jim met me in the waiting room so he could entertain Jack during my appointment. As I was checking myself in, the receptionist heard me cough and made me put on a blue surgical mask. I then had to sit down in the crowded waiting room as everyone stared at me as if I was a leper.

The mask was made of paper formed in a dome, and it had a metal strip over the bridge of the nose so that you could make it fit. After about 30 seconds, the mask made my face sweat. Also, I had to keep pulling the mask down to blow my nose. I decided to leave the mask around my neck and pulled it over my mouth only when I had to cough. Big mistake. The receptionist saw me and said loudly "Ma'am, you need to keep that mask on." I said "I am keeping it on when I cough. It makes my face sweat and I can't blow my nose." She said "No, it has to stay on at all times."

Now I'm not only the waiting room leper, but I've been identified as one who is recklessly exposing everyone to my evil germs of doom. I put the sweat dome over my nose and mouth again and suffered in angry silence for the next thirty minutes. I just know that there were a bunch of dangerously ill patients around me with no upper respiratory symptoms who were sitting there, mask free, enjoying my torture and spreading *their* evil germs of doom to all of the unsuspecting patients.

Of course, once they finally called me in for my appointment, my temperature, which has been between 100-101 for almost a week, was normal, according to the nurse. Apparently, taking the cold medicine that morning was a bad plan, because this bit of information ultimately led my doctor to believe I had a virus and not a bacterial illness. I guess he saw the misery and pleading in my eyes, because he said "I'm 95% sure it's viral, but I am prescribing you a Z-pack to take on Sunday if you aren't getting better by then." He also gave me some cough medicine with codeine to help me sleep.

You see, my doctor does not like to prescribe antibiotics unless the bacterium are standing on your face and waving at him. He is of the opinion that Americans take too many unnecessary antibiotics and are therefore increasing the number of resistant diseases. I know he's right, but his diagnosis (or lack of one) left me feeling at a loss. I felt so sick, I could barely make it through the day taking care of the kids, but I ended up agreeing that I would wait until Sunday to start the antibiotics.

Jim agreed I should wait to take the Z-pack. The doctor also recommended that I take Claritin, and since Jim's company makes Loratadine (same thing), we have tons at home. Jim felt that the Claritin was going to fix my situation. So I followed instructions.

...and I got sicker and sicker, and my jaw hurt even more. I finally broke down this morning and took the first two pills in the Z-pack at about 8 am. Now, maybe it's a placebo effect or maybe my "virus" was already turning the corner, but by 4:00 pm, the soreness and swelling under my jaw was significantly better. I personally believe that the antibiotics are playing a role. When I mentioned it to Jim, he told me "It can't be the Z-pack already." Later this evening, however, he said "I told you to take the Z-pack on Thursday."

Huh? Apparently it was his evil twin that told me to follow the doctor's instructions. Whatever. The jury's still out on whether my other symptoms are abating. I got a lot of rest today, courtesy of Jim watching the kids and I hope I'll start to feel better when I wake up in the morning.

And Jim? He's been out with his friends 3 times since I got sick. He's out tonight with our neighbor, who is watching his two kids alone this weekend while his wife is out of town. Alex, the neighbor, called me 30 minutes into his time alone with both kids and asked if they could have a play date at my house, but I digress. As Jim was getting ready to go out, I mentioned how often he'd been out this week.

Jim: "But it was at night when the kids were in bed."

Me: "Did you ever think I might like someone to take care of me after I've been taking care of the kids all day feeling sick?"

Jim: "Oh. I'm sorry. But I have to go because I promised I would."

I don't begrudge him time out with his friends, and lord knows that no one really wants to hang around with a sick spouse who spends the evening coughing up a lung, but it would have been nice to have someone take care of me for a while. Just sayin'.