Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Exactly one week before Christmas I woke up with a sore throat. This is nothing unusual, since I am known in my family as the one who is always sick during holidays. However, two weeks and one day later and I am still sick.
The way Jesse got me to go to the doctor's today was with what may or may not have been a 'pep talk' last Friday night. I had just come back from seeing (a blurry version what with of all the tears gushing from my eyes) The Impossible and we went to a neighborhood restaurant to eat. I did the cough thing I'd been doing and he gave me husband-concerned-face and we discussed how my never-ending sore throat could be tonsilitis. I was like, yeah, maybe, that's fine, whatever, I'm not contagious and I don't have a fever. And then he stops eating and his voice got really low and he says, "you know, you could die from that. You can die from any infection."
So I cough-coughed on the way into the doctor's office today and I don't have strep throat but, hey, let's send away a lab test anyway. The doctor ruled out tonsilitis, but was concerned I may have some sort of 'superinfection' in my throat. Yes, that was the word she used. Superinfection.
Of course when I texted the husband about my supposed diagnosis he goes, "Your Super! Power!" Being sick is my super power, you guys. Don't be jealous.
The good news is that right after that my friend Sean texted me that Baz Luhrmann had stopped him on the street to say hi and that this was something he thought I would enjoy. He was right and I spent the rest of the wait time for my prescription thinking about how to harness the potential of this acquaintance into a dinner with Hugh Jackman and Ewan McGregor. Maybe Jesse can come too if he can hold back the morbid comments on my health.
I should note that the picture above was my only view in the tiny exam room. And that said husband gave me the Diane von Furstenberg purse for Christmas. Maybe I'll keep him and all his jokes after all.