Sick

I hate being sick.

I hate the dizzy, swimmy feeling my head gets. I hate the fact that the cats don't want anything to do with me (until I have to throw up and then Minnie decides that THEN is the best possible time to crawl on top of me). I hate the idea of it being a beautiful day outside and I can't go play in it. I hate that I have to get a throat culture to rule out strep throat.

Which, of course I have.

I actually did my first throat culture in YEARS yesterday, and let me tell you, it wasn't pretty. Thanks to trauma from my childhood (where the Navy doctors held me down to jab a Q-tip in my throat), I haven't been able to do it since I was about six years old without screaming and crying. As far as I've been concerned, you can look, you can't touch, and you can give me the penicillin just in case. But yesterday, the PA seemed nice, and after I explained my irrational fears, I found myself agreeing to it. I sat in the chair, and this 5'2" woman towered over me with a Q-tip.

At which point, I began hyperventilating.

After five minutes, we decided to give up. She sat down on the stool, I hunched over, and she suggested that I call Sheppard Pratt.

Then, she said, "You know, we could try it like this," meaning the seated positions we were both in.

I agreed to try and she scootched the stool over. Now, she was below me and not towering over like Nurse Ratchet. I stuck my tongue out, she moved quick, and before I started fighting her, she had exactly what she needed. Which was brown and bloody, and not at all what a "healthy throat" is supposed to look like.

So now, for the first time in probably twenty years, I am being legitimately treated for strep throat. I know how to get a throat culture done in a way that works for me, and while I still hate being sick, I do have to say thank you to a very kind and patient woman named Leslie who helped me get through it!!!