On Thursday, I hoped my throat would be better on Friday. It was not. On Friday, I hoped my throat would be better when I woke up on Saturday. It was not. The throat was still swollen. The throat glands were even more swollen and hurt.
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| Beautifully not crowded. |
Mom drove me to the urgent care I didn’t know was located barely two miles away from home. The place was not crowded and things moved efficiently. Insurance info was provided. Paperwork was completed. After a few minutes, my name was called and I was taken to an exam room. There were the usual blood pressure and temperature readings and a bonus throat rapid swab that triggered the gag reflex with an assistant. Yee-haw.
In a few more minutes, another medical professional appeared and informed me that it was definitely strep. I think the last time I had strep was
half a century ago when I was in high school. Seriously, who gets strep throat
at my age? And how? Anyway, the penicillin regimen of three times a day for ten days has begun and will be my friend.
The sacrifices are mounting. The first two days of feeling poorly meant I never left the house and included missing the Friday opening of Cherry Hill Ice Cream, and ice cream is usually the only opening day I’m interested in. The two days of invalid life were not enough to ward off the damage. Day three of unwellness meant I missed two dance workshops in Arlington I was signed up for. I already excused myself from dance group on Sunday morning because it seemed wiser than waiting until morning and spinning the wheel of fate to see how I felt.
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| Fun time culture swap room. |
The throat glands feel even larger this evening than they
did this morning. Ramen as the primary food source is losing its thrill. A can of cream of mushroom
soup, bought on a whim last week for a recipe became supper. It wasn’t as good as I remember
from my high school and college years when it was my go-to food. And strep throat is turning out to be
worse than I remember.
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