The Plague

Well. It has happened.  I knew I couldn't avoid it for much longer.  I have come down with the plague.  I'm going to go ahead and blame the germ infested little miscreants I welcome into my room with open arms every day. And you wonder why I don't hug people...

As it stands, I am sitting on my couch, wearing 19 layers of clothes, under a down comforter, with a space heater rolling because in addition to being sick, my heat doesn't work.  It's a really sweet situation.  You're jealous, I'm sure.

Being the trooper that I am (not really, I'm a huge pansy about being sick), I decided to go to school yesterday, but I left half day because I decided I was probably going to die in the near future.  So naturally, I went to seek medical help. After being shot down by my own doctor, and not having the energy to fight the good fight and needing find someone to tell me I wasn't knock-knock-knocking on heaven's door, I went to a walk in clinic.  Mistake.  First of all, it cost freaking $50.  Holy macarooni.  Apparently being shunned by your own doctor comes at a high price.  So now I'm rejected and poor.  They really know how to make a person feel good.

To the walk in clinic's benefit, it wasn't crowded and I didn't have to wait very long.  After having my vitals taken to prove I'm not dead, and being asked for the first time if there was any chance of pregnancy, I made my way to a delightful exam room.

5 minutes later a man practically runs in the door, screams his name at me and demands that I tell him what is wrong.  I wish I was exaggerating, but I'm not.  Also, he was talking so fast with a very thick accent. I could barely understand him.  I tell him my symptoms.  He asks me if I'm pregnant.  I have no idea where he got the concept that sore throat means pregnant.  I mean...I didn't go to medical school, but somehow I doubt the two are related.  He asks me another long series of questions, so fast I barely have time to respond before he's on to the next question.  He asks if I'm tired.  I say yes.  He asks if I'm  pregnant, again.  Then he asks if I've had mono.  I guess I'm at an age where you think pregnant first, mono second.  Man, it used to be the total opposite.  I guess I'm getting old.  He felt around, checked my heart and lungs, then he goes to feel my stomach and asks AGAIN if there's any possible way I could be pregnant.  Now this was just getting to be a little much, and had I been in my right state of mind, and not wallowing in self pity with how bad I felt, I would have yelled at him.

He says, "I'm going to check your tests."
I heard, "I'm going to check your breasts."

This is how bad the accent was and how creepy and weird this doctor is.  He comes back and tells me I am negative for strep.  He swabs my throat again to double check, but proceeds to tell me that I have a cold.  Baller.  I just got creeped on and degraded AND payed $50 to be told I have a cold.  I ask him if there is a possibility that I have a sinus infection since I get those pretty frequently.  He says no...it's not a sinus infection until 7 days.  I think, "great, I get to feel this way for 7 more days." He says he'll give me an antibiotic if I want it...I feel like this is bad medical practice.  I tell him no. I don't believe in the overuse of antibiotics.  I'm really thinking, this weirdo would probably poison me anyway, I'll just wait the seven days and see my normal doctor.  THEN. Old boy says this, "You don't seem very happy with me."

I'm thinking: NO!! You're right. I would actually go with down right pissed off.  You accused me of being pregnant FOUR times.  You practically molested me and you are rude and I just paid $50 for you to yell orders at me and tell me I have a cold. On top of all of that, I feel like crap and there's nothing you can do about it!!

What I actually said: "This is a doctor's office.  People are sick.  It's not exactly joyous.  I don't feel good."

Oh mylanta.  THEN i went to Kroger to get some drugs.  I had to jump through like 8765 hoops to prove I wasn't going to make meth out of my cold medicine.  GO figure.

Ah well. I feel a little better today, but definitely not up to par.  Give it 7 days and we'll try again with this whole doctor situation.

Peace, Love and a gallon of orange juice,
Claire