So Sunday I started to feel like my throat was on fire & that I had, roughly hours to live. (Not that I'm being overly dramatic AT ALL.) Of course this was after a migraine on Friday night that caused an abrupt and unwelcome end to BSG Friday night. Boo. Hiss.
Anyway, I stayed in bed most of the day Sunday, mentally writing out my last will and testament & writing sonnets to the makers of Motrin. On Monday, I rose with absolutely no renewed vigor, but I did have the firm conviction that I needed to see my trusty family physician.
I scheduled a 2:30pm appointment and soon was wagon training my way towards McKinney. Yes, I live in Richardson. Yes, my doctor is in McKinney. Yes, it's worth the drive.
Now here's the funny part.
He took one look down my throat & uttered this classic phrase...
"Oh, s$%t!" (This is a familyish blog, after all)
Awesome.... especially with a tongue depressor shoved down my throat.
I have strep throat for the SECOND time this year. Yeah, I'm an overachiever. And it's all on one side of my throat this time, so that means I'm at risk to develop an abscess. Classic. And my antibiotic? The pills are roughly the size of my thumb nail.... I wish I was kidding.
So, to recap: It is hilariously funny to cause your doctor to curse out loud (while diagnosing you with strep for the 2nd time in one year) as he's sticking a tongue depressor down your throat.
Yeah. My life. Welcome.