I feel terrible. As in, right now, I feel so sick I can’t believe I have the energy to write, but everything about my current illness is so fresh that I have to get this out.
Yesterday, I woke up feeling like someone had punched me between the eyes, put my head in a balloon, and had been feeding me astronaut powder for food. Somewhere between boarding and exiting 7 planes (still 2 more to go on Sunday), snorkeling, changing temperatures from three cities, and getting sea sick, I managed to come down with something I just couldn’t pull an about-face on. Bryan drove me to the familiar Pacific Beach clinic- familiar in that San Diego continues to blow my mind by making me sick nearly every visit. I haven’t been sick since June. Before that, April, and each of those times were in sunny California.
We walked into the clinic and waited for me to be seen. I’ve become such a patron I have already started receiving a discounted rate. A nurse kindly led me to the back room and I flailed myself on the crunchy paper-coated table. I looked about as good as I felt. When the doctor came in, I swamped him with a list of ailments- allergies (as in I was scratching my tongue with my fingernails), sinuses, a sore throat, a barricade on my hearing, and the occasional cough). He took one look in my right ear and declared that I had an ear infection- and possibly some sinus backup. This was a fair assessment. I asked him what he recommended.
“I’ll put you on an antibiotic to be taken twice daily. You’ll need to buy some Zyrtec-D.” He said.
I stopped him right there. “Zyrtec-D makes me hallucinate and have trippy dreams.”
“Take it in the morning,” he said. “And I’ll need to give you a shot of cortisone, stay here.”
“A shot of cortisone?” I wondered aloud. Didn’t that seem a bit dramatic? “Where will the shot go?” I asked.
“In your butt,” he said quickly with a smirk and walked out, closing the door behind him.
I began laughing hysterically in between a state of terror and irony. Just one night prior, I had disclosed my childhood fear of being a doctor because I hated getting shots in the butt. My new sisters had laughed; now the joke was on me. The nurse returned with a large shot of the medicine, instructed me to pull down my drawers while Bryan tried to distract himself, and forewarned me of the pending burn. Oh my, burn it did! I think the lady thought I was intoxicated because I couldn’t stop laughing, thus flexing my gluts. I laughed so hard I cried and didn’t leave the table making any more sense than when I came. I was also instructed that I would need to massage it in; thank God I’m married.
I’m still not sure what the heck it was all about. I came in for a sore throat and I left with a shot of cortisone in the butt. And sadly, I think I will be returning tomorrow at 8am.