Yesterday I started to get nervous when my fever went from 99.7 where it had been for two days to 102. Evan drove me to the urgent care center, where the doctors are totally from some bizarre otherworld cast of characters that could only be imagined by someone writing for cable television or on public assistance on the verge of becoming a beloved best selling author. I got the chatty troll doctor, who began diagnosing me while walking through the doorway of the exam room. She had heard my cough from the hallway and that was all she needed to hear. She talked 75mph non stop for ten minutes rattling off lists of medications she could give me, shocked that our family didn't own our own nebulizer, and earnestly telling Evan he had to take care of me I was on the border of having full blown pneumonia. I got two kinds of inhalers, steroids, antibiotics and cough medicine. That is about 500% more medicine than I am willing to take. I do think I have pneumonia. I can hear and feel the crinkling noise in my inner right lung after a good coughing jag, so antibiotics it is. I'll keep the steroids and one of the inhalers (the one with death listed as a common side effect) as back ups. Speaking of inhalers, what a miracle!! Holy cow! One puff and I was like THIS IS A MIRACLE!! I CAN BREATHE! I CAN BREATHE!
For two nights in a row I had red level disturbing dreams, and people, coming from me, the world's most insane dreamer, red level is impressive. One dream, I realized while dreaming it, was the third in a sequel of dreams which involve the program coordinator (secretary) for my MFA program. No idea why my subconscious would bring her into my dream world except maybe that the way I perceive her in reality and the way she presents herself on facebook are at odds with each other and this confuses me. I can't remember at all what was happening in the secretary's dream (and there is notebook right next to my bed for situations just like this, damn me!) but last night's dream was freaky enough to make this freaky school related trilogy forgettable. Last night I must have been hearing my congested self laboring to breath because in my dream I was creating the three dimensional pattern of my breath sounds (yay synesthesia!) into something I could hold in my hands. Also, I must have rolled over or shifted because at some point I was holding two different versions of my own breath sounds and I did not know which one was better for me to apply. I think the deal was I had to choose one or not breathe at all. One was a scaled looking wing like shape in a translucent indigo color and the other was like silky scarves waving in layers in a deep blue green. I called one the wing, and one the butterfly in my dream. I was panicked in my dream which woke me up, and I was bathed in fever sweat and made myself get out of bed and use the bathroom so that when I went back to sleep I had less of a chance in continuing the dream. And that, I think, was my first synesthesia influenced dream.
But then today my fever was normal for most of the day, until this evening. So I am pretty bummed. It rose as soon as I dragged my arse off the couch. I made myself lie on the couch all day (don't tell Josh I slept through The Life of Brian, I was thrilled he volunteered to watch a movie with me) and no fever. In all honesty, now that I think about it, I did have to kick off the blankets I have been attached to the last five days right before I noticed the heat rising within me, so I guess it was just a 6PM kind of thing. Boo.
I'm not surprised at all I got sick, my stress was too high since coming back from Matt's graduation, with sweet pea's little head stitches, the husband's hospitalization for mystery illness, Matt being home and feeling bad that he isn't completely and honestly communicating with me, my arm injury from the fall of winter 2014 totally flaring back up, figuring out my thesis, writing a pretty lame version of my thesis to get in by deadline .... kaboom. I was bound to self destruct in some way. I guess getting sidelined with an illness is better than going bonkers in public or turning to street drugs (I only said that because the pharmacist made me give him my birthdate to buy OTC cough medicine-just in case). I'll take this possible pneumonia and take it down a notch. Message received.
I'd like to end on a positive note here and mention that my obliques are going to be totally cut by the time the antibiotics settle in.
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