Yes, it seems I’ve returned to my bad blogging ways. I’m a few days shy of an entire month since my last post. What a bad, bad blogger I am. And what a month this has been. I wish I could say all has been sunshine and roses but I can’t. July brought a multitude of ups and downs. Which do you want first? Good news or bad news? How about we get the bad news out of the way. Always good to end on a positive note.
Bad news update:
I’ve been sick. Really, really sick. In fact, I can’t remember feeling worse. It started with a sinus infection the week before Father’s Day. I had been feeling lousy for days. Knowing I had an upcoming trip to Texas the following week, I wanted to get a handle on the situation so I could enjoy my trip. Realizing a timely appointment with my doctor would require luck equivalent to that needed to win the lottery, I decided to go to our local urgent care. (For those who don’t remember my last adventure at Urgent Care, go HERE.) Once I arrived, things went relatively well. I only had a short wait before I was called back. My only concern arose when I was greeted by the doctor… a mere child was he. My pea-sized brain began doing mental mathematic gymnastics in an effort to calculate how young he really could be and still have “done the time” necessary to become a true MD. If the results of my calculations didn’t equate to the ridiculously young age he seemed to be, I was going to shake his hand, thank him for his time and hit the door. Again, my past experience at this care facility had not been the most pleasant. I wasn’t eager to repeat any of my past nightmarish ordeals. I thought long and hard. Considering I was miserable and needed his care and attention, I consoled myself by believing he just had a “baby face” and would be a most efficient doctor.
I proceeded to fill him in on my symptoms and he followed the usual exam procedures. The verdict…I did indeed have a sinus infection. However, I all but had to strong arm the young little whipper-snapper into giving me an antibiotic. I’m fully aware of the reasons for not haphazardly prescribing these drugs, but goodness gracious! It was obvious I was suffering from an infection. The biggest clue being the green goo pouring from my nose. (Sorry for the gross details but you should know by now to expect it from me.) He eloquently explained the reasons I should wait 10 days to see if the infection would clear on its own. An explanation I quickly dismissed as total nonsense. Did he really think I would buy his lame excuses for withholding drugs? Didn’t he realize I’m older (ahem, much older) and wiser when it comes to knowing what my body needs to fight an infection. Um, no, I guess he didn’t. He wasn’t going to budge. In his opinion, he knew better than I and he had a degree and a long line of initials proudly attached to his name that proved he was the wiser one in this instance. Now I’m not a wuss but 10 more days of miserably battling the pounding in my face, teeth and any other area north of my shoulders was not an option. So I resorted to all my wily ways to convince him to give me drugs. I smiled. I begged. I pleaded. I whined. I pouted. I even attempted to eek out a few tears. Much to my dismay, a few lame sobs were all I could choke out. Bet you can imagine the pretty picture that painted given my clogged up sinuses. Eventually he caved. I honestly believe he just wanted rid of me. Regardless of his reasons, he reluctantly wrote the prescription, giving me strict instructions to wait 10 days to begin taking the pills. And we all know I did EXACTLY as directed. (Insert sly little chuckle.)
A firm believer that you get what you give, I suppose I got what I asked for…the medicine didn’t do the trick. The following weeks were not the best. I never fully returned to my energetic self and I felt generally crappy. The nastiness that had filled my head seemed to have migrated to my chest. Breathing was difficult and coughing fits became the bane of my existence. Fast forward to the first week of July. I was eager to enjoy a long weekend in Canada with my girl. Having never been to Canada, I couldn’t wait to experience all she had to offer. While I did enjoy my trip, it was a struggle from beginning to end. One horrible headache after another and exhaustion unlike any I’ve ever felt followed me the entire trip. On the return flight from Chicago to Charlotte, I began to realize I was one sick chick. Another trip to the doctor…this time an old fart of a fella…and I was given another round of antibiotics. This time it was readily offered as the numerous blood tests showed a highly elevated white cell count. Hoping to finally have the uglies under control, I diligently took my medicine and tried to sleep it all away.
Almost a week later, I was not only seeing no improvement but I was worse. Swearing a train had run over me during all those sleep-filled hours, I tried to convince myself I would get better soon. Yet I didn’t. One night as I was struggling to shift from work attire to my well-worn granny gown, I discovered a horrifically large growth on my being. To say I was frightened would be a major understatement. Trying to control my panic, I quickly called my nurse friend, Karen, for a what-I-hoped-would-be large dose of reality. There HAD to be a logical explanation for the growth. It couldn’t be bad. Could it? Another trip to a different doctor the following day left me with another prescription for another antibiotic. This time, the diagnosis was an infected gland. Yes, only I could get an infection while on drugs to cure an infection!?!?!
Here it is another week beyond both rounds of drugs and I’m not much better. I have been able to resume a few activities but I’m paying for it. This much I do know. I should not be able to claim sleep deprivation for the next year or so. I’m constantly sleeping. I’ve set a new early bedtime record…8:30 every night finds me snuggled beneath my covers, well on my way to dreamland. I will be paying a specialist a visit tomorrow, one who I pray will have all the answers I need. Say a prayer she can diagnose the problem and offer a cure.
If only my ill health was the only negative news I had to report. During all those “sick” days, my A/C decided to take a vacation…on the days we experienced 90+ temperatures. I know overtime efforts would be required of my A/C to offset the scorching temps but why did it have to revolt? I would have negotiated a fair deal if it had only tried to work with me. Unfortunately, it chose to leave me and the price tag to get it back in working order was a steep one. After 5 days without, I would have paid any ransom to get it back.
I also discovered several other home repairs while I was home nursing myself back to health. My car also wanted in on the drive-Lisa-crazy action and has been giving me a fit. Can’t figure out what’s up with the clunker. Seriously, I don’t drive a clunker. The car is only a few years old and has been well maintained. When I bought it, I based my decision on safety and reliability. Well…someone lied! This has been the most unreliable car I’ve ever driven. In fact, it is at the shop again today.
Hmmm, what else? Three unbelievable billing errors have occurred on various long-standing accounts. All my payments were being posted to someone else’s account…at three different companies. Are you beginning to believe there is a conspiracy going on here? I am. Haha!
Whew! Bet you never thought I would get to the good stuff. In spite of all this negativity I have really good news. Life is good! How can I say that? Because I’m a Pollyanna at heart. I choose to believe in the glass-half-full approach to life. You see, it’s all about perspective. Sure I’ve felt bad. But it has all been treatable. I consider myself fortunate it wasn’t something far more serious.