I am feeling pretty much like a human today, and not in a wretched-oh-the-humanity way. I feel more like a nearly-drowned-but-not-that-bad kind of human.
So here’s what happened. I went to that wedding on Saturday, last Saturday, that is. I was feeling out-0f-sync and irritable. Then R2 got diagnosed with strep on Monday. I had a sore throat for days, but I was so not going to the doctor because come on, grown-ups don’t get strep throat.
By Friday, it wasn’t getting better so we googled a walk-in clinic since I am one of 46 million Americans without health insurance, since I choose to spend money on other things, and don’t particularly want the government to use me for their statistics about the poor uninsured poor.
Anyways. I went to the urgent care place and paid my $75 and sat down to wait. There were about 10 of us in there, half for physical therapy and the rest just there to mingle our germs. I watched some discrimination in action towards a Spanish speaking guy who didn’t understand the clerk… if I had felt like myself, I could have asked the questions… it isn’t that hard to ask if he’s there for the doctor and is this his first time… sheesh. Sometimes it really bugs me when English speaking people are so disrespectful to people who speak their native language AND some English. Wow, there’s soapboxes everywhere today!!
Finally I got back to the room so I could wait some more, in a different place, and then after 6 or 7 years the doctor came in. Folks. This guy had to be 85 years old. I realized after a moment’s shock, that I was being all ageist on him and decided to chill. If he wants to keep practicing, good for him… I bet retiring is hard on doctors who love what they do. He was skeptical, though, of my having strep. “Your son was diagnosed with strep, and now you think you have it. Or do you have psychological strep?” he asks me. I don’t like being doubted, but he was practicing medicine before the President was born, so he’s entitled to some skepticism.
He looked in my ears and down my throat, which looked perfectly fine to him. He listened to my lungs with the stethoscope held tightly in his shaky hands. Lungs are clear as a bell… only one of 10 patients coming in here with a sore throat actually have strep, he warns me.
Lucky for me, the Google told me that I definitely had strep, and was minutes away from contracting rheumatic fever. I love the Google. So the doc expressed a couple more kinda reproving thoughts, about me thinking I had strep, and then he hobbled out. I’m no ageist. I will scoff at anyone of any age who doubts me and what I know to be true of my burning throat and my Google knowledge.
So the nurse came in and took the swab, and I gagged a lot like a little wuss, and then after about 1 minute the doctor came back in and told me I had strep throat. Drugs were prescribed, and then I went victoriously to CVS where I waited some more, feeling like I had gargled razor blades and my head was underwater and such, and then I took my drugs and went home and laid in bed for 3 days moaning and weeping and reading Facebook. The hubs took care of the little people and brought me tea. Today has been the first day that I felt like standing up, and it’s a good thing, because the MOG was out of clean socks.