Friday, August 21, 2009
Let me start off by saying, I have nothing against nose rings. I've had mine pierced twice actually, but... have you ever been treated by a doctor with a nose ring? From now on if I see a doctor wearing a nose ring, I'm going to run. Doctors with nose rings, if you're reading this, take it out while you're at work, for my sake, please. I'll have no reason to fear you if its not in.
The other day I posted a little note about my having what I thought was a sinus infection, remember? I posted the pretty picture of the netti pot, tra la la, it was just a quick little- well anyways, as the day went on, things got worse. Much worse. The pressure in my face became unbearable, the dizziness surrounding my eyes turned into mind crushing madness, I forced myself into the doctors office. The second my husband got home from work, I drove myself down to the walk-in clinic (the hospital on base only has daily openings for active duty, they appreciate us spouses, really) to be seen right away. I've been to every walk-in clinic in town, more than once. They've all got a file for me.
I'm not usually too quick to judge, but when the doctor came in, I was pretty sure it could only go one of two ways. Either she was super hip, with her nose ring and short spiky hair, or she wasn't. She asked what was going on, I explained as quickly as possible, since she was acting as if she was in a huge rush, and then not even 3 minutes later she was out of my room, and finished with me. Really, lady? That's it? All she had done was looked in my ears, pushed on my face (in one spot, she didn't even give me the typical finger poke facial massage), and said "hmm, yeah its probably sinus related. Let me get you an antibiotic". A nurse came in and handed me the scribbled on paper, and that was that. OK, well, I knew I had a sinus infection to begin with, so it was kind of nice to skip all the nonsense. She knew what she was doing, and I had come in already knowing what was wrong with me. It worked.
Wait a second.
On my way out of the office, while passing back out through the lobby to get to the front door, I saw my must-be-in-a-hurry doctor, chillin' out max and relaxin' all cool with some friends, laughing about god knows what, in a far row of empty chairs. Is that what she had been in a hurry to get to? Is that why she couldn't even listen to all of my symptoms? Kind of lame, but, whatever. I had gotten my golden ticket for the drugs, I just wanted to go home and sleep.
I got into bed as soon as I got home. Clunked my tired legs up the stairs, and collapsed into a pile of blankets. Christopher took Charlie to the store to pick up my antibiotics, and I stayed behind with Eleanore, who I thought would be taking a nap, but got out of her room about 2 minutes after Christopher had left. Christopher later returned with a bottle of rather large blue capsules, and I popped one in my mouth without thinking twice. Bring on the relief! Earlier the nurse had praised me for breastfeeding, so I knew whatever they had given me would be safe for my milk. I decided to read the side effects just for fun, and- wait, what?!
"If you are allergic to penicillin, check with your doctor before taking this medicine".
Well, they had asked me what I was allergic to, they had written it down and circled it (which means I had checked with her, right), and then the doctor had decided to give me this anyways, so... it must be safe? I called Christopher up the stairs, and told him to keep an eye on me, to watch for any kind of allergic reaction, and then I tucked myself under the covers and closed my eyes.
*The middle of the night*
-Enough sweat to fill a bathtub. I've never seen so much sweat.
Thanks, Dr. Nose Ring, for being in such a big hurry to visit with your friends, and not taking the time to pay attention to the death sentence that you're writing down on paper for me to swallow twice a day. Please take note of my sincere appreciation.
When I went back the next day, explaining to the nurse what was happening (still dripping sweat, skin flaring red, pounding pain in my back), they put an urgent stamp on my forehead, threw me in a room right away, and skipped other patients to knock on my door. And oh good, its the same lady. But something was different about her this time. Oh... she wasn't wearing her nose ring, or her casual Wednesday outfit. She was wearing an actual doctors coat, and speaking in a tone as if she cared. Also, this time around, I noticed that the tips of her fingernails were a zebra print (maybe they had been the day before too, I just didn't notice because I was too busy staring at the fact that my doctor had a nose ring). Not the cool kind of zebra print either, the tacky Texas kind of zebra print (do you know what I'm talking about). She gave me an "uh oh" and a "that's not good", then handed me a plastic cup and pointed me towards the potty. I just called it 'potty', out of habit. That's how much of a Mom I've become. Wow.
Not only did I have an allergic reaction to the medicine that she had given me (duh), but I had gained a bladder infection to boot. It just keeps getting better, doesn't it? Man I'm so glad that she listened to all of my symptoms the first time I had seen her, and that she had payed attention to what my body will and will not tolerate.
Again, thanks, Dr. Nose Ring. A zebra print tipped thumbs up to you, lady.