Yesterday was a joy and a half. I had to go see one of my doctors because I had a terrible headache and neck pain. A CT scan revealed that the infection I have isn’t going away, in fact it’s getting worse. Happy, happy, joy, joy. What does that mean? Aside from giving me a massive headache, it means my antibiotics aren’t working so I’m going to have to get fitted for an iv. For the next 2 weeks, I will enjoy giving myself iv antibiotics in the privacy of my own home.
But wait, there’s more.
Part of those 2 weeks eats right into my vacation. Score! That means that I’ll probably have to miss some if not all of it. Oh I’m so thrilled about this whole thing. I really am. I mean, how could it get any better. I spend a week at home trying not to sweat to death from fevers or have too many crazy hallucinations. THEN I get to spend 5 whole days in the hospital getting poked with needles and woken up at all hours. THEN I get sent home thinking that everything is okay, only to find out that it’s totally not and I have to go back to get poked with even more needles AND I’ll get an iv at home. Score! How did I manage to get so lucky?
Seriously, the thing with the needles just has to stop. I’ve never been afraid of them, and could always seem to handle them. Right up until yesterday. Now the sight of them makes me start to sweat. Perhaps that has something to do with the fact that my right arm is still all bruised up from when I was in the hospital last week. It looks so pretty, all those bruises make me look like I’m new to heroine or something. Charming and sophisticated. Getting woken up at 7:00 AM to have blood drawn is so awesome. I highly recommend it. Oh! And if they can set you up with someone that can’t find your veins so ends up having to stick you twice, that’s the bomb right there.
Ugh, my head hurts. Doesn’t really help that mom felt the need to call me at 8:30 this morning when I was sleeping so peacefully. It feels like a samba band has taken up residence right in my brow. I can feel the pulse in my head and it doesn’t feel good. Not even a teeny tiny bit. Let’s all take a moment to give thanks to Ibuprofen-hopefully it’ll help the samba music stop.
FYI: I blame all of this on the lawn mowing.