Don’t let anyone tell you I don’t do things 100%. I am one hot mess.
Last week, the flu started. I took a few days off work and it seemed I was on the mend by Sunday. I was still coughing, but hoped all the time I had spent in bed would mean I would wake up refreshed and ready to join the word of the living Monday morning.
I barely slept Sunday night and had a killer pain in the right side of my abdomen. It felt like a gremlin was trying to scratch itself out of my stomach.
I woke up Monday morning drenched in sweat and with a killer migraine. My flu symptoms had returned and that stabbing sensation in my gut? Still there.
I sucked it up, called Cindarella, and she drove me to GW Urgent Care. (I first asked her to bring me out in a field and take care of me Old Yeller style, but she would not oblige.) As soon as I saw her, I started crying. I was not in a good way. Luckily, I was vindicated when I got the final diagnoses last night: along with the flu and a migraine, I went and got myself a kidney infection, a urinary tract infection and I had a fever of 102.5. I may have felt like a pussy for crying, but it was warranted.
The doctor’s have decided to detonate a Cipro bomb on my body (14 days!) and I have to go back tomorrow. If I don’t look better, I will be admitted to the hospital. That is highly unlikely, but Doug mentioned he needed blogging material and a trip to the hospital sounded like the perfect opportunity to become creatively inspired; maybe I will do it for him. Perhaps there will be a series on hospital food in the near future. Jell-o anyone?
On the slightly fucked up side, I have lost 6 pounds. I realize this is not the way to lose weight, but hey–at least I can get a jump start on peeling off the holiday poundage.
Why am I telling you this, you ask? Um, because I feel like whining. Because I am delirious on pain meds. Because I want to brag about what an awesome friend Cindarella is. But most importantly, because I don’t think I will be blogging for the rest of the week. I will spend the time off shaking my fists at the heavens for giving me a UTI without at least giving me a night of sexin’ to account for it. Fuck you, Mother Nature.