The Sore Throat Virus

It’s a rarity that I feel so horrible the thought of writing a blog sickens me, but that’s been the case these past few days. I’ve been dealing with a real ass-kicker of a virus. I haven’t been sick in a very very long time, which is something I like to brag about and even bask in – but alas that tenure is OVER. Enter Sandman…errr, the Sore Throat Virus. Or should I call it the Razorblade Throat Virus. Yeah, that works better.

I woke up in the wee hours of Thursday morning in a cold clammy sweat, and immediately took note of the fact that I could not swallow. Now I’ve dealt with a sore throat many times in my life, including a few times this spring with the high pollen count. But this one was somehow different. Let’s just say after forty-two years you should know your body well enough to know when something’s amiss. I went on to work and grudgingly performed my duties, but I felt this crud progressing as the day went on. The girls in my office were getting tired of hearing me groan and complain, I know. But ya know – if you feel shitty, you just feel shitty. Everybody deals with it in their own way.

By the time I got off yesterday, I literally tore outta there to get home – not passing go, not collecting $200. My guy and I had cancelled our plans for the night earlier, so I just tried to rest on the bed for a while. By the time nightfall hit on Thursday night, you-know-what hit. The godforbidden diarrhea D word. To the bathroom, over and over. Then came chills so bad no amount of blankets on me would make them go away. Although I don’t have a thermometer, I knew that spelled fever. Laid on the couch like a zombie through three hours of tv – which is totally not me. I rarely SIT on my couch, much less lay on it – and I also watch very little tv. Trying to sleep Thursday night was the worst – my throat had gotten past the point of not being able to swallow. Each time I had to do it, was literally like swallowing razors… so it made me cry every time I swallowed. I was up hour on the hour gargling with warm salt water.

FF to Friday morning. I knew I had no choice other than to make that dreaded call in to work. I’m never out and everyone knows this – but this still doesn’t help cure that little feeling inside of what are people thinking of me. I’ve never been able to change that, and sometimes hate myself for it. Early Friday about 4 am, I shined a flashlight down my throat. I was totally grossed out by what I saw in the mirror, and at that moment I knew I had to see a doc. My tonsils were so enlarged and inflamed that they were each the size of a gumball. It’s no wonder I couldn’t effing swallow! Got to the doc at eleven, which he immediately said WOW when he saw my throat, then informed me it looked ‘guilty’ of strep. He almost bypassed the rapid test and just treated me with penicillin, but then decided to go ahead and do the test when I overheard he and his nurse talking in the corrider outside the room.

Nurse: I think it’s viral.
Doc: No, all the signs of strep are present: the swelling, redness, fever…
Nurse : okay… but I was right on the last one, let’s see if I’m right on this one…

Sure enough, the rapid test came back negative, the doc was wrong. I know he was hatin’ life on that one.  Hell I hate to say it but I almost wanted it to be strep, since I’d already talked the doc into the hip-shot of penicillin that makes you feel immediately better. So… since it wasn’t strep and was viral, I got to bounce drag my ass outta there with nothing but an rx of numbing mouthwash. Hoo–WAH. I came home and changed, called work, my mother, my guy and texted my babygirl. Next thing you know, here comes K over with a bagfull of medicines. You name it, throat lozenges, Chloraseptic spray, Ibuprofen and Coriceden nighttime rest meds – sooo sweet. Knocked myself out after he left (literally) and slept a little over three hours. Knocked myself out again Friday night with the nighttime cold med and here I am, ten hours of sleep later… feeling a little better. Mindset is better, if nothing else. Throat still sore, but it’s not like the razor blade feeling from days past.

I think there’s hope after all.