So I got called on it

Somebody who saw the lump on the head says it wasn't softball-sized. I will concede that it looked and felt that way to me, but possibly not the objective observer. So, to set the record straight, I will revise my description and reduce the size of the lump to that of a golf ball. But I will go no lower than that, because it is so. The laryngitis became persistently more annoying, and I began to run a low grade fever. Here's a weird thing about me, one among many. My normal body temp is 96.8 degrees as opposed to 98.6.
Yes, that's right, my body temperature has dyslexia. So, it seems to me that if I am running above the 96.8 then I have a fever. Logical, right?

Then I began to feel tightness in my chest, achy, lethargic. I could feel it coming on. I went to my family doctor, who suggested that my laryngitis was stress-induced, as he is aware that I am almost always stressed. I left with no prescriptions, nothing except the advice to consider analyzing and eliminating possible causes of the stress.

More easily said than done, you know? Especially during the holidays. I was extremely homesick (I live 6 hours from my hometown and miss my sisters horribly and always), but I was hoping to get a sissy fix at Christmas.

A week later, I began coughing, a lot. The cough, was, shall we say, productive. I was hacking up dark green coughballs at an alarming rate. They were big enough I could have named them. It was gross and exhausting. I went back to the doctor and this time he said I had bronchitis. It was miserable. My ribs and back, the muscles and the bones were so sore from all the coughing. My dogs were afraid to come near me because of the sounds coming out of me, not to mention the facial contortions I had to be making. The doctor put me on a round of Keflex and a bottle of Tussionex. Good times. Good sleep. I was sure this would fix me up so I could get to Erie, PA for the holiday.

I felt a litle better for a couple of days, but by no means good. After the drugs were finished, my cough became more severe, but not productive at all. I coughed until tears streamed down my face. I coughed till I vomited. My fever was hanging tough, and at the end of the coughing jags, which the doctor later told me were named paroxysms, I found myself gasping for air.

Two nights in a row, I thought it entirely possible that my lungs would be forcibly ejected through my mouth, and I might just die. I remembered hearing about whooping cough when I was little, and although I had, of course, been vaccinated, the always trustworthy internet told me that sometimes the vaccine wears off.

I have no kids, but my friends do, and I adore my friends and their kids. Not wanting to expose anybody to being sick, especially at Christmastime, I imposed a quarantine on myself. No Erie, no friends, no nothing. I had no tree, because I had planned to be out of town. I had a poinsettia, and I looked at that every day to try to get a little holiday cheer.

Finally the coughing was so bad, I called the good doctor again. I was so out of it, I did not realize it was New Year's Eve. He was kind enough to phone in a refill of the Tussionex, so I got some relief for New Year's Eve and Day, and made an appointment to see him on 1/2.

Now, Tussionex is really strong stuff. It is misleading in its appearance. It is thick and gooey and green, much like the coughballs it is trying to give me relief from. And the taste is relatively benign, actually pretty good. Way better than the OTC stuff.

But it is dangerously strong, especially when combined with meds I take for yet a different condition I will discuss at a different time. Suffice it to say it is so strong, you are directed to take one teaspoon every 12 hours. A bottle should last a week.

When I went to the doctor on 1/2, I had taken over half of the bottle in 2 days. He was a little pissed and a lot concerned, and rightfully so. I had not exactly acted responsibly, but it was the only way I could get any relief, especially at night.

We discussed it, and I told him I would act more responsibly, and I begged him to fix me. I mentioned my concern about whooping cough and he said, "Funny you mentioned that! There is a virus going around that mimics whooping cough, but isn't whooping cough". He rediagnosed me and sent me on my way, adding it had to run its course, so no meds were prescribed.

He said I needed to start walking or something, a little more each day, and he was confident I would begin to feel better...eventually.

Just when you think you're getting better

Ya know?

I have been sick for almost a month to the day. Like, really sick. As sick as I have ever felt in my life. Well, there was the time I had food poisoning and vomited 30 times in one day. I was admitted to the hospital 98% dehydrated. Oh, and the time I spent 4 days in a different hospital with necrosis from a brown recluse spider bite. I had a hole in my arm. Those times both sucked, but they are stories for a different time.

No, this time I was plain old sick. I saw some friends yesterday for the first time since Thanksgiving,
they complimented me on my weight loss! I think they were glad I was feeling better, but hey, at least I look good. Right?

Around Thanksgiving I got a head injury and a black eye in an innocent fall. This fall remains innocent of all charges except for eliminating any joy for the first week, minimally, of the holiday season. I spent turkey day vomiting and holding pillows over my head because I couldn't stand light or sound. I had a softball sized lump directly over my eye, and a mighty impressive, but sore, shiner. It lasted almost two weeks. I loved checking out the new colors of the skin between my eyelashes and brow every morning. From black, to blacker at first, with the bruise slowly taking over my eye area, slower than a president realizing a mistake (Haha. Let alone admitting it). Less obvious, too....

Then the blacks faded to purples, blues, and then to reds and greens. Sometimes it looked like a beautiful sunset. I found myself thinking the colors in my shiner could inspire a romantic poem.

My Darling
Last night when we kissed
On the shore
By the fire
During the glorious sunset
All I could think of was my black eye.

As the bump began to diminish, along with my beloved black eye, I felt the strain of laryngitis begin whenever I spoke. No big deal, I felt fine. For a few days.

As I began to feel not so fine, my concerns began to grow. Somebody has to worry about it, right? I have to go do some stuff, but this saga continues. Trust me.