Any pill that looks like a bee will sting you. Remember that.
What a frigging week I’ve had. Let me start with Monday. I woke up with a bladder infection. Well, everyone knows that it is torture to actually go to the doctor with this lovely illness. You have to call the office and get an appointment. WAIT for your appointment. Drive to the office. WAIT in the waiting room. Pee in a cup. WAIT for the doctor to give you a prescription. Drive to the pharmacy. WAIT for your prescription. I don’t wait well when I am feeling fine. If I have a burning bladder and I have to pee every 4.2 seconds, I REALLY don’t wait well. So, I used the handy dandy Teledoc service that comes with my insurance. It’s super cool. You log into Teledoc and a real doctor calls you. You tell him or her your symptoms and he or she calls in a prescription. They won’t call in narcotics or, you know, stuff like that. They will call in antibiotics. This particular doctor called in Macrobid for me and I had it within 30 minutes of talking to him. I was so happy.
On Tuesday, my husband woke up looking like a lop-sided chipmunk. Seriously. He had a painful, swollen cheek. I thought for sure I was going to have to fly out to LA and punch anti-vax queen Jenny McCarthy in the face because I was certain it was mumps. It turns out that my husband had an infected salivary gland. He was basically given a prescription for Lemon Heads. Seriously, the doctor told him to eat a bunch of sour candy so he would salivate more. I still might punch Jenny, just for the heck of it.
Throughout the week, it really felt like I was getting better. I mean, I was a little nauseated from the Macrobid, but other than that my urinary symptoms seemed to be going away. Of course, just because the universe hates me, I got my period on Thursday, a week early. I already had a bladder infection and assorted stomach issues from the antibiotics. Why not throw in cramps and pads?
Friday night, I noticed some neck and back pain, but I just wrote it off to the fact that I had been a giant couch potato all week. I work from home anyway, so I’m not especially active during the workday. While I do have an exercise bike desk, I have to stay still to do most of my work. Sitting still makes my upper back ache. So, I took some Motrin and went to bed.
Saturday morning kicked me in the ass like never before. I woke up after having neck, head, and back pains during the night. I felt icky, so I took my temperature. 102. Holy shit. Both my husband and my good friend told me it was probably the flu, and to ask for Tamiflu. So, I requested a call from Teledoc again. This doctor told me to go to the ER because it sounded like nephritis and I might need IV antibiotics. You can Google that, like I did, but it’s basically a scary infection of the kidneys. Rock on. So, my husband took me to the ER. I shivered the whole way because, of course, it was cold and rainy, and I had a fever, and I was scared out of my mind. Score.
Let’s skip ahead to the sexism because I’m certain that is more interesting than anything else I have written. You guys are probably thinking, “Did the doctor talk down to Lisa because she is a little, short, chubby woman?” Nope. I was not the victim of sexism. Let me explain.
I don’t have the mumps. That’s just my chubby face. A MAN put in that IV port.
I used to be a sexist. By used to be, I mean up until Saturday. I was never a “daddies are dumb” sexist. My sexism was very focused. Before my most recent ER trip, I did not trust male nurses or phlebotomists. I have had many experiences where men could just not find my veins and ended up poking me numerous times. So, imagine my horror when not one, but two young men had to poke me with needles. This hospital’s policy is to get two different “sticks” for all blood work. I’m not sure why and I didn’t think to ask because I felt like I was lost in a Stephen King novel. I mean, this was my nightmare – men with needles. TWO of them. Everyone knows women are better with needles. Well, every asshole like me knows that. I feel like a younger Archie Bunker with a vagina. Sorry, guys!
Here is the shocker, ladies and gentlemen. The fellas both only stuck me once. They found my veins quickly and both did not even leave a bruise. I now have faith in male blood takers. Again, I’m so sorry I doubted you fellas.
So, after the doctor got back all of my lab work, she discussed it with me and really explained things. She is the best ER doctor I have ever had. She told me, basically, Macrobid sucks. The doctor did not actually say that. She explained that Macrobid doesn’t actually kill bacteria. It just keeps more bacteria from growing. Well, when someone has a bladder infection, you should probably give him or her something that will kill the damn bacteria. I mean, I’m not a doctor and I don’t play one on TV, but seriously, kill the damn bacteria. Why the hell does anyone prescribe Macrobid? I was sent home with a prescription for a different antibiotic, Cipro, which I have to take for 10 days. So, I’m hoping with the lack of alcohol and coffee (both no nos when you have a bladder infection) and the stomach issues from the antibiotics that maybe I will lose weight. I’m always looking for the bright side.
So, how was your week?