As I sit here at my computer, at work, I've fallen asleep about seven times, complete with drool crustingly collected at the corners of my mouth. Am I on drugs, you ask? Well, yes. Yes, I am.
They're not over-the-counter but not necessarily the kind you'd buy from a guy wearing a trenchcoat and speaking in a veiled whisper. "Hey, Meester...." They are the kind you'd get from a guy or girl in a white coat (but no straight jackets) behind the counter of your local pharmacy. Your own pharma-pusher. You can liken the doctor to the cartel bigwig, offering his product to keep ya hooked. And I'm hooked. Soon, I'll be sleeping it off. Head down. On my desk. Drooling. Oh, and don't forget the talking in my sleep. They don't call me Mona Putt-Putt for nothing.
I've been "under the weather" for the past two weeks, and no, people, it's not the swine flu. A co-worker of mine was uber concerned when I came into the office with what I describe as an covert tactical exercise in my sinuses... a head cold. No fever, no vomiting, but an extremely full head, sneezes that would rock the universe and a cough. Oh, the cough. That was about two weeks ago and I haven't stopped hacking since. In fact, I hacked so much and with such ferosity that I thought I threw my lower back out. I couldn't sit, enter or exit my car or even pee without pain.
So, to recap: major head cold and a very sore back. And then the weekend arrived and the back got worse. Maybe it was from the coughing, which is what my boss had hinted at when I told her of the last-minute doctor's appointment I managed to secure after first trying two walk-in clinics on my lunch hour. With an hour for lunch, of which I had used up 15 minutes driving to the clinic, there was no way I could sit and wait my turn for a further 45 minutes to an hour the receptionist had suggested as a wait time. And that, was just an estimate. So, I called my doctor's office and asked for the last appointment of the day. I had my suspicions. I'm pretty intuitive that way. Besides, the pain was a familiar one.
It hurts when I pee
Actually, it didn't, which is why my bladder-turned-kidney infection went undiagnosed. And that, my friends, is why my back hurt. The coughing certainly didn't help, but, as I suspected, it wasn't the main culprit.
I came home from the doctor's appointment armed with god knows what: some sort of antibiotic other than penicillin (I get hives from those lovelies), uber-strength cough syrup (so strong I neeed a prescription to get it), Advil for my sore back, tissues so I don't spray and a large bottle of Vitamin C so I'll be better prepared for the next onslaught of sickness that will go through my house and my office.
I'll be ditzier than usual for the next few days, if today is any indication. I thought everyone saw me nod off, only to jolt awake because I had dreamt that the man threw a cashew at me from a deck and hit me square, right between the eyes. Oh wait, that did happen. Perhaps I was just plotting my revenge. Better yet, I'll lick my palms and caress his face and lick every spoon and fork in the cutlery tray.