I had one decent week last week where I felt good enough to clean out closets and drawers.
Saturday morning the sickness returned. Sunday morning, I decided to go to the Minute Clinic inside CVS to get some meds.
I was diagnosed with Acute Sinusitis which I decided was way too adorable of a name for how bad I felt.
Plague seemed more appropriate.
I was given a strong dose of penicillin and sent on my way.
I came home and ate a bowl of Life cereal and took my first pill.
I was talking to Monte
when my chest started to itch.
I was wearing a Waffle House sweatshirt from my daughter's closet and I wondered if there was something in the dye that was irritating my skin.
I took it off, right there in the middle of the kitchen.
I had a tank top underneath.
Monte commented on all the welts all over my chest, shoulders and back.
I ran to the mirror and noticed my face looked sunburned.
I pondered,
"I wonder if I'm allergic to Life?"
Meaning the cereal.
The cereal I just ate.
Monte thought I was being all "tragic" and meant life in general.
He's a girl dad.
That reaction came from
YEARS of solid experience.
But this was no fake drama.
Something bad was happening.
Monte drove me back to the Minute Clinic.
There is a touch screen computer you sign in with.
I tried, but by this time my hands were two red swollen mitts of meat.
Not so good on the touch screen.
Monte knocked on the doctor's door.
She took one look at me and dragged me by the arm inside and told Monte to wait outside.
She poured me a generous cup of Benadryl and inspected my welts.
She said she needed to call someone.
For the first time,
I noticed just how young she was.
She hung up the phone and gave me a blood test to determine if I had mono.
I guess mono can sometimes cause a reaction to penicillin.
We had to wait five full minutes for the test results.
To kill time,
I watched my hands and wrists
swell even bigger.
She kept asking if my throat or tongue felt funny and if I could breathe.
I told her no,
I could not breathe,
which is why I came in.
I also told her I was allergic to grapes and used to the feeling of my throat swelling.
Growing up, I called that feeling, "Communion Sunday".
She asked if I had an epi-pen.
I told her no, it was the 70s. My mom just gave me a Velamint and a drink of water.
She blinked a lot at me.
Especially after I asked her where the water from the Neti pot went
when it didn't come out the other side of my nostril like it was supposed to?
Did it get absorbed into my sinuses because they were FULL UP?!
It was determined I did not have mono.
She told me I would start feeling pretty sleepy soon from the Benadryl.
She ordered up a new antibiotic for me and some prednisone for my hives.
She told me that even after a lifetime of taking it with no problem, I would now have to tell doctors I was allergic to penicillin.
I got up to put on my coat and got super dizzy and the room started to spin and I got all sweaty and shaky and sat down quickly.
Before I knew what was going on, I had an ice pack on the back of my neck
and a blue plastic sock thing in front of my face that she told me I could puke in if needed.
I thought there was NO WAY
that plastic sock was going to do it for me.
And I've thrown up in those little bags on an airplane.
I should know.
As I was bent over the blue sock, she got Monte and I overheard talk about calling 911.
For whatever reason I got real concerned about being taken to the ER in a Waffle House sweatshirt.
I overheard Monte saying not to call the squad and he'd take me to the emergency room.
I thought,
"For the love of Pete, don't cheap out on me now!"
The next thing I remember, my pants were down and the doctor was spearing my thigh with an epi-pen and holding it down HARD.
I'm not sure how long I was in that chair, but I slowly started to feel better.
She told me that I would be shaky for awhile from the adrenaline of the shot which was exactly the opposite of the feeling the Benadryl was causing.
My body was at war with itself.
At one point, I overheard the doctor tell Monte
she had not given very many epi-pen shots.
Monte helped me to the car and went back for the new meds.
I came home and told my daughter and her friend about the visit.
It didn't seem possible that so much could escalate so quickly.
Walking up the stairs to my bedroom with a recently stabbed leg was interesting and involved some dragging.
It took a while for the war in my body to settle down so that I could sleep.
I had a dream that night that I was being pulled into a dark tunnel.
I resisted at first but finally gave in because I was so exhausted and it was so relaxing to just let go.
I woke up and told Monte I thought it was a death dream
and I gave into death!
So, in conclusion, no more penicillin for me and I can now cross off my bucket list getting pantsed in a CVS Minute Clinic.
The End.
