In which I got sick as hell.

Sunday I got off work, came home, had some cape cods, Skyped with my friends, and went to bed. Monday I woke up late morning feeling normal, and within a couple-few hours I was sick.

I thought it was influenza. Fever, cough, aches, pains. Exhaustion.

Oh, it was nasty. And it kept getting worse: night sweats. The fever would break, then it’d come back again. Temperature was between 99-102F. Chills, then too hot, then chills. Kept waking up drenched and then freezing immediately.

Also had a number of really esoteric fever dreams, so that was cool.

Friday I made S. take me to urgent care because it was my 4th day in a row to wake with a fever and I felt sick as hell. So he drove me out to Saint Louis Park, the nice place he goes with his insurance, but they don’t take mine. They had a nurse see me real quick to make sure I wasn’t dying and then sent me to my own network.

I wasn’t dying. Temperature was down to normal (my fever had broken just before we’d left), blood oxygen was in the low 90’s, blood pressure excellent. He told me it could be the flu, or maybe bronchitis or pneumonia. So we drove back to Whittier clinic, which is literally four blocks from our apartment, of course, and I went in a made an appointment for 2:30 that afternoon.

Then back home, bed, and back to sleep for a few hours.

Then up, teeth brushed, back for the appointment.

Nurse got me from the lobby and took my vitals. Great blood pressure (everyone who takes my blood pressure tells me it’s “great,” so apparently my fat ass looks like she’d have high blood pressure), five pounds down (hadn’t eaten for shit in days), please wait here for the doctor.

Doc came in, asked me questions, looked in my nose, looked in my mouth, felt my throat/lymph nodes. My tonsils have disappeared sometime in the past few years without my even noticing, which is WEIRD AS HELL (doctor asked if I’d had them out. I said no, and later, at home, when I remembered, I stuck my fingers into my mouth and they’re just gone).

Flu swab came back negative, so diagnosis is acute bronchitis. (“You’re literally wheezing,” she said.) Doc gave me two painkillers (Advil and Tylenol), an Albuterol inhaler, and Tessalon (apparently a cough suppressant). They didn’t do shit. Well, other than the ibuprofen; that did help with pain, but my lungs were still super fucked and I didn’t understand the point of a cough suppressant when all I really wanted was a productive damn cough. Acetaminophen doesn’t do shit for pain, apparently? I’d never taken the two back to back while experiencing pain, but only the ibuprofen worked for me.

The Albuterol appears to be packaged for non-asthma users. I don’t know enough to know if it’s a different product or if it’s just like a regular inhaler, but it offered no relief, which was disappointing as hell. I took the meds for about 24 hours, then just dropped it all because fuck it.

So, more sleep, more aches and pains, more wheezing; more dry, unproductive cough. I ended up calling out for four shifts at work (luckily, they were fantastic and supportive, bless ’em) and was seriously considering another appointment on Monday because shit was not fine.

Oh, and five days of constipation, too, because no nicotine-via-vape, but that was really the least of my issues.

Finally, Sunday night, the cough came. Well, shit started coming up, finally, and that horrible tight, dry feeling began to ease — I’d been coughing the entire time, of course. But finally, after an entire fucking bedridden week, some progress! It was glorious.

The evening before last, I got hives. On my lips. My lips swelled up like fucking crazy, like Botox crazy. I don’t know if it was a drug reaction or just more Aging While Female, but it was weird as hell. I sat on the couch for an hour checking my tongue to make sure it wasn’t going to kill me and then gave up and went to bed. (Most of the swelling was gone in the morning, but it took all day yesterday to go away completely, and then last night I had two more hives, both small: one on my right index finger, and another on my right foot. Then I remembered I’d had one the week before, on my right wrist. So maybe not meds-related.)

Sunday I managed a couple loads of dishes, with lots of resting. Monday I actually cooked a meal for the first time in ages. Now it’s Tuesday evening and I’m feeling much more human; the tree is up, there’s a string of lights around the living room window, and I’ve made the bed. Still wheezing and coughing, but much, much better than Friday.

Long story short, BEING SICK SUCKS!