Saturday, June 5, 2010

I am a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad friend.

And a bad blogger to boot. Honestly, I have had some things to write about for a while. I just haven't made myself get on here and get with it lately. Let me update you on a few things first. No, I have not gotten my clipboard back. Yes, I wussed out and turned in her application so I don't have the thief's number anymore. I think this is a lost cause so I may have to let it go. You gotta know when to cut your losses. Next, unfortunately my jersey number for The Sons of Pitches will not be Pi, but 42. Or 44. At this point, who cares, right? Just kidding. I still love the team and am looking forward to our fourth practice. I have realized though that the sport is a lot more dangerous than I was initially told. For example, on our second practice, a ball hit me on my left thigh. I am not saying I overreacted, but I wore an athletic cup for the third practice. But when one of our teammates got hit on the chin with the ball on our third practice, I realize that a cup is not enough. I need a freakin' suit of armor to play this sport. Unfortunately, those are not easily accessible or conductive to a good range of movement. Plus, I don't think it would meet the uniform requirements. All caught up? Let's move on.

Allow me to whine for a moment. I had a horrible week. It didn't start out too bad. I was off Monday since it was Memorial Day (insert something good about soldiers here to make you feel better and make me look good). But Tuesday, oh god Tuesday, was a whole different story. Now I don't want to be all gross, but we all know I am going to so brace yourself. Let's just say that, halfway through my morning shift at work, I kept getting the urge to pee. Let's also say that, right before lunch, I realized I was peeing blood. I don't wanna say this scared the living daylights out of me, but I started writing a will before realizing I had nothing to bequeath to anyone but debts. So during lunch I went home and looked at the ever handy WebMD site. It said that it was likely a urinary tract infection. Under home remedies, it said to drink lots of fluids and specifically cranberry juice. I called work and informed them that I would be unable to return to work and immediately headed to the grocery store to buy cranberry juice. I got one of those one liter bottles of it and downed it hoping it would help. Let me just say this, cranberry juice should never be drunk without some form of liquor accompanying it. Then I just sat at the toilet for the next few hours as the urge to pee would not abate and it was pointless to go anywhere. I cannot say if the juice did much but by the end of the day I had stopped peeing blood, even though the discomfort was still there, and I thought the worst was over.

I was wrong. On Wednesday I got up and figured I would go to work. I realized, when I was driving to work, that I wasn't all there. My reaction time was slower than usual and I was moving slow. Well, slower. Touche. I must say that I hate doctors. The last time I went to one, I was forced to go by my parents. This time, I willingly made an appointment and left work shortly after I had arrived.

Later that morning when I got to the doctor's office, he was not too happy with the fact that I had not had a physical in over ten years and that I had not had a tetanus shot in just about as long. He asked what my symptoms were and I described them to him, adding that now I actually had body aches and was sore all over. He proceeded to examine me, a bit too roughly if you ask me. I mean, when he was checking for hernias and asked me to cough, I could swear he applied so much pressure a tear may have slid down my cheek. Then again, my body was just probably a bit more tender because of being sick but I still held a grudge. To make matters worse, he looked perplexed when he announced that I had a urinary tract infection. He said that men rarely ever got them. I did not say much, but what the hell? Was he questioning my manhood? I mean, he knew I was a guy. He almost made me cry while handling my equipment. Can you see why I hate doctors? Also, he said guys "rarely" got them. He did not say "never." Let's just say I was happy to get my prescription for antibiotics and get going.

Does the story get better? For most people it would after that. For me, it did not. I dropped the prescription at the pharmacy and they told me it was going to be about an hour and a half. I asked, very nice and politely, if they would please give me a call when they got the prescription ready. The nice lady said she would, so, when I got home I took a nap trusting I would receive a call to wake me up and pick my meds up. Four hours later, Medea got home from work. First thing she asked was why did I not go to work. Simple enough, I did not feel well. Plus, I did go to work, I just did not stay. I told her I had to go get my meds and she said that she would offer to go get them for me but she had to cook dinner. I figured that was fair so I went and got my own meds. They are supposed to be taken with food so I also bought a whole bunch of cans of chicken noodle soup and I picked up some Azo the doctor had recommended. For those of you who don't know what Azo is, and I speak mainly to any guy readers I might have (as if!), Azo is a urinary analgesic that makes peeing less painful when you have a UTI. It also makes your pee a bright orange which is really weird. Back to the story, I get home and start preparing a can of soup for myself so I can take the meds. I am moving really slow as my whole body aches and I am really tired. Medea, upon noticing my state, commented that the reason I felt so miserable was because I was just too lazy and had slept the day away. Oh My Freaking god!!! I could have slapped her if it hadn't taken so much energy. I was furious though. There I was taking care of myself, making my own soup, picking up my own meds, feeling like I am dying, and she has the decency to say that. She did not stop there. She said that if I wanted to feel better, I should clean around the house. When I did not respond to that she then suggested I just go outside and just walk or run for a while so I could shake the lethargy off. She wanted me to go running! I could not believe it. I was speechless, which was a good thing because who knows what I would have said. I did get her back a few minutes later though because she said that she had a headache. I quickly suggested that she go for a run to get rid of her headache. Funny, right? She didn't think so. So now she was mad because I was upset because of what she said. I have no idea how she does it, but she always turns things around and gets mad at me for being offended because she insulted me.

Anyway, I would love to say that I felt better right away but I actually felt worse before I felt better. That night I had a fever of 101 degrees. Not too high a fever. What sucked though is that I had not had a fever in over twenty years and I can no longer say that. But it does paint a picture of how sick I was. In the past, regardless of how sick I got, I had never gotten a fever. I would get close, but no fever. That is when I started worrying. That night was the toughest one but once the fever broke, the worst was over. I still took Thursday off to fully rest and allow the meds to get me back to feeling better and take away all the pains and aches. The headache was the last to leave on Thursday night.

I don't want to say I have become paranoid, especially since I have been one to always check my urine to make sure I am drinking enough water, but let's just say I pay extra attention now. Unfortunately, I scared the hell out of myself Friday at work when I went to pee and realized my urine was a bright red. I almost had a mini-panic attack, which is not good when you are using a urinal and you have to keep aiming, until I realized that I was still taking the freaking Azo and just had not had enough water because I had been busy at work. That is one of the most relieving realizations I have had while relieving myself.

So that is my week in a nut shell. Why then is my post called "I am a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad friend?" Give me a minute. I am getting to it. I just don't know the meaning of the word "brevity." Anyway, when I posted on my facebook that I wasn't feeling well, I was flooded with people asking if they could do anything for me or bring me some soup. I even had someone offer something that made me blush. Well, it didn't make me blush so much as it made me wonder what the hell he was thinking. But I digress. My best friend checked up on me daily and kept asking if I needed anything and could not be any sweeter. She kept saying that if it weren't for my parents she would come see me and see what I needed. I called her today after work to let her know I was all better and I find out that she has strep throat. I had nothing to say other than, "well, call me when you get better." See how horrible that is? But I could not bring myself to offer anything. I mean, I am still on antibiotics and I am pretty sure my immune system is still down and I already spent a whole week sick. I can't risk getting strep. Yes, I am selfish. One thing I can guarantee though, I will not tell her to go running so that she will feel better. Hey, I guess I am not that bad after all, right?


Candance said...

Poor baby! Glad you're feeling better, though.

And, your mom is totally my mom in Spanish, except her solution to everything is "expel gas". Seriously. Your ankle hurts? "Have you been able to expel gas?" Your uterus is bleeding and you have to have an emergency hysterectomy. "Oh, you don't need that surgery. I bet you just need to expel gas." Broken gallbladder? Well, you get the picture. If you want to make her have a come apart, yell, "OMG, I don't need to fart!!" Then she'll say you're crude and there's no need for such vulgar talk.

Not Typical, Yet Fun said...

Candance: She sounds like she is the one that really wants to "expel gas" but has been restrained to do so from society as it would be improper. She should just let loose, eat a can of beans and enjoy life.

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