I turned 35 almost one month ago now, and promptly after this event I got sick. I could feel it happening when it started. My throat became inordinately sore in a mere matter of hours and I became convinced that Freddy Krueger had relocated from Elm Street and was dragging his weapons down my esophagus. I had an inkling that night that things were not going to go favorably, however decided to wait 6 days before visiting a doctor. Being a nurse (as with most medical professionals) it is common to wait until the 11th hour before seeking assistance. After a stern reprimand from the doctor on the dangers of a strep infection, 5 days of Penicillin began. At this point, my predicament was further complicated by my asthma exacerbation that occurs with any sort of of nasal/throat secretions. Nothing screams sexy like a purple-faced, sweaty woman violently coughing in fleece pink jogging pants who hasn’t slept for a week.
Five days into Penicillin, things were not looking up and Mr. Krueger was still wreaking havoc. Unable to swallow my own saliva (and scared of another lecture from the doctor), I sought another consultation in which things indeed had not improved. The verdict…10 more days of a new antibiotic and blood work to rule out mono (I have had mono…the prospect of a sequel was not appealing).
If you’re counting along with me, this brings us to approximately 3 weeks of illness and 3 weeks of inability to sleep due to pain and coughing. I am not a pretty picture and am looking more and more like Davy Jones from Pirates of the Caribbean. Trip three to the doctor became warranted after I developed a familiar pain in my right lung. I had pleurisy 3 years ago (hey…nobody said this was a “Health Blog”) and the pain from that was excruciating. Outcome…pneumonia and pleurisy with 14 more days of antibiotics and 5 days of steroids.
Which brings me to the pigeon. While waiting for the doctor yesterday, I was sitting in my slovenliness in the far corner of the waiting room coughing and still generally gross looking. Looking out the window to pass the time, I noted a gaggle of pigeons outside walking around the vehicles. As I was staring, I noted an exceptionally fat pigeon approaching the window wearing a red bandana around his neck. I promptly looked down at the floor and felt my face getting warmer as I realized what I had just processed in my head. Is this what I missed out on in high school when I wouldn’t go down to the backwoods at lunchtime for some hallucinogenic fun?
Driving home (which I wondered if I should have been doing) I surmised that it was sleep deprivation. Three weeks of poor sleep (combined with illness and A LOT of drugs) would probably not make for clear, concise processing of information. Therefore, I need to be hopeful that my new drug regimen will help and sleep will come at some point. If the pigeons start riding around on miniature ponies I will keep you posted.