I am sick as a dog. Saw my GP today, who thinks it's the nasty flu-like virus that is making rounds. She has me on a nasal spray, antibiotics for if bacteria show up, and Robitusin, all of which I also called and got cleared with my OB's office.
It started yesterday with coughing that was bad enough that by the evening I started to worry that it might be bronchitis. The bacterial kind. Which is, for someone with the history of bacteria getting into the intact sac, a cause for concern. I called the practice, and the doctor on call said it was fine to wait to see my GP in the morning. I didn't really want to go to sleep last night, mostly because I knew that with that much coughing I wasn't getting a good night's sleep anyway. I finally did crawl up the stairs at 1:30.
We used the dopler last night-- Monkey's new thing is to ask for it before bed. Which, of course, didn't stop me from having some paranoid thoughts and some bad-bad-bad images (all about how afterwards they will be amazed how little time it actually took those stinking bacteria to get into the sac) when I woke myself up with my coughing at 4:30 in the morning. I tried to appeal to my reasonable side, but it was no match for the paranoid side. In fact, the paranoid side laughed at the reasonable side's puny arguments, and out came the dopler for the emergency almost-morning check. Got it right away, which was, shall we say, helpful.
On the funny side, the sound of the dopler got into JD's dream, and changed the whole thing around making it weirdshit enough to cause him to wake up. On the not-so-funny side, this incident probably serves as my final boarding announcement for the Primal Fear Airlines flight 666, destination: as yet unknown, flight time: nearly five months, we hope. I guess I'd better fasten my seat belt.