I have fallen so far off the earth, friends are calling to make sure I'm alive.
Friday morning I was officially fed up. I told Aaron I wanted to go to my alternative doctor for treatment and we kinda, sorta got into a fight. Something about me saying I was really fucking sick and him saying something about I'm nearly over it.
After he left for work, I called the real family doctor (you know, as opposed to the fake alternative family doctor) and left immediately to make the appointment.
(The alternative doctor is expensive. And 45 minutes away. I don't take the kids with me to those appointments. If I'm spending $100 on an office visit, I'm doing it ALONE. Where I can get UNDIVIDED, PERSONAL ATTENTION. Like during sex. But not the same kind of attention. Get your head out of gutter.)
So I went to the mainstream doctor. Who used words like wow and - I'm not even remotely kidding - that's gross.
Nothing makes me feel as special as the doctor telling me something about my body is gross. I just get filled with warm fuzzies. Or maybe contempt and disgust.
So, the doctor diagnosed me with the flu (duh), horribly infested lymph nodes and bronchitis. Then he spent 15 minutes trying to figure out an antibiotic he could prescribe that I'm not allergic to.
Allergies are fun.
(Haha, and you all thought I just had food allergies. That's funny.)
(You know what's not funny? Hives. And ambulance rides to the hospital. And having a "flush" which ALWAYS makes my va-jay-jay burn.)
So, yeah, hi, I'm on a new antibiotic. And the side effects are KILLER. You know, things like dizziness and seeing things and insomnia and gastrointestinal issues. Wow, drugs rock.
One more day... one more day... and then hopefully a day after that I won't be SO DAMN CRAZY FROM THE DRUGS. Seriously, is this what ecstasy feels like? How about speed? Is this what speed feels like? If I weren't so damn dizzy I might actually like it. Well, except for the GASTROINTESTINAL ISSUES.
But HEY. I had an epiphany whilst at the pharmacy waiting for mah drugz to be ready.
About six months ago, the damn dental hygienist told me to change my mouthwash. She practically beat me over the head with a two pound bottle of new mouthwash, preaching the benefits, and made me promise to switch.
Well, guess what? The new mouthwash DIDN'T BURN. And guess how fucking sick I have been in the past six months? Guess!
Well, I don't know the answer to that -- but it's certainly TOO MUCH.
While I was at the pharmacy, I ran into a long, lost lover:
And ever since my mouth has burned like hell fire. I SWEAR, I'm completely done with being sick. This is ridiculous and out of control.