So, I've been gone for over a week. I know what you're all saying. "Pfffft...this is nothing new. You disappeared for like...four years.". I don't deny it. I have a very bad record when it comes to my blog. Not quite the Chatty Cathy that I used to be. But this time, I have a real, legitimate excuse. One that will shock and amaze! Confuse! Confound! Contort and convolute! I'll just sum it up with one word:
Leprosy.
...OK, maybe not really leprosy. And leprosy isn't something you should joke about. Back in the day, Biblical folk had a hard time with that little number. So, no. Not leprosy. But I did have its modern-day equivalent:
Chicken pox.
Yeah. See? Shocking, right? I mean, if I were a six-year-old kid, everyone would just be like, "Aww...well don't scratch too much, OK?". But people, I'm 29. I'm what most people would consider an adult. Most people would be dead wrong, but, still...I'm "grown"! I'm not supposed to be coming down with chickenpox, mumps, measles, rubella or any of those other diseases we associate with childhood traumas/staying home from school for a week of awesome. ...I did get to stay home from school for a week of awesome, but that's not the point! Grown "men" do not get chickenpox! We walk that off, like a punch to the gut or a dislocated shoulder, or a knife to the eye. A few itchy bumps? Please.
The thing they don't tell you is that chickenpox ups its game for adults. If kidly pox is a sucker punch, grown pox is like getting sniped. Probably because adults are just punks with way too many responsibilities. Seems to hit us harder. All I know is, on Friday, I left school with a backache, a neck ache and an itchy throat. Actually, that's not how it started! On Thursday morning, I was taking a shower, and brushed my hand against a bump on my chest. It hurt a little, because I broke it open. At the time, I just thought I'd broken open a very small scratch I'd somehow acquired in one of my wrestling matches with my kids. So I paid it no mind. The next morning, I hit a second bump on my back, and another on the opposite side of my back. I just thought I'd gotten more scratches than I'd noticed at first. But by the end of the day, I was tired, achy and feeling plain crappy. I figured it was sinus stuff, so I picked up a few of my comfort foods and prepared to get m laundry done for the next day. But when I took my shirt off to out it in the washing machine, I noticed a several more bumps all across my stomach and chest. And they weren't just bumps... They looked...watery. Like they could pop. (sorry if this is sickening anyone). So I sent my girlfriend a text, joking, "Ha! I think I have chickenpox!". She didn't think it was so funny, and immediately found me a doctor to visit. By the time I got to the doctor, I was shivering and shaky, and I was about 100 degrees.
At the doctor, the nurses seemed to be trying to keep me calm by asking me all sorts of questions about where I was from, and complimenting me on my Japanese ability. My girlfriend just smiled, and started picking on me for catching chickenpox. Then we got to see the doctor...and...I'm thinking Japanese doctors intentionally put on an air of "I have no idea what I'm doing!" to put the patient at ease. This migh work on Japanese patients, but it only made me trust him less, especially with him waving all sorts of instruments around. I just...don't trust doctors when they have something in their hands. Besides, most of this "examination" was spent with him lifting up my shirt, looking at the bumps, mumbling, "Hmmm...maybe chickenpox...", and then leaning back in his chair to think about it. He did this at least three times. Then he took my blood pressure, my temperature, and my respiratory something, looked at the bumps again, drew a rough sketch of my torso and where the bumps were, looked at them again, and said, "Let's give you some medicine!". For good measure, my girlfriend asked for a doctor's note so that my company would legally have to pay me for my days missed (probably useless). One hundred and twenty bucks later, I had medicine, a note, and was well on my way to 101 degrees. Which makes me wonder...how much would the medicine have cost without insurance? Anyway, we stopped by the grocery store to get me some food, then I went to the gas station, and then I went to a convenience store to fax the note to my company and give them a call. Lucky for me, the guy in front of me was apparently trying to fax a novel to his best friend or something. Twenty minutes of shivering later, I was at home, taking medicine and trying to eat food my stomach obviously didn't want, all so I could take the medicine they gave me.
Medicine is a tricky thing. That whole before meals, after meals, before bed, only with water thing can trip you up. On top of that you got your side effects and what not, which is enough to scare anyone with any common sense. I remember when all the crazy medications started coming out, the ones were half of the commercial was some guy listing all the side effects and disclaimers as quickly as he could. The free-spirit style commercials were really popular then. People riding roller coasters and frolicking in the park despite whatever ailment or infection was currently nesting in their bodies. Oh, we all made jokes about it. I think the most humorous one was herpes. I'm not entirely sure why everyone thought that one was funny. Maybe it was the name. Herpes. It just sounds...trivial. And you know young folk. Always making jokes about things they don't quite understand to hide their own ignorance of it. I remember, in college, an acquaintance of mine had taken some inspiration from Big Boi's Purple Ribbon All-Stars, and other, less savory slang. And so from the slogan, "I got that purp", he struck genius with the term "got that herp". Oh, we all laughed at that one. It was timely, witty wordplay that allowed us to laugh off our anxieties about the veritable hurricane of STDs and other diseases swirling around us in the college environment. The administration made sure to remind us of the dangers every day, and those silly medicine commercials reminded us every night. So it's only natural that the name of a few of those medicines stuck in my head.
So when I got my medicine, and saw the name "Valtrex" written on it, it triggered something in my memory, but I wasn't sure exactly what was going on. I fought down some food and swallowed those two rather large pills, and stared at the name again. Valtrex. I miss the days when you had to hold something in your brain for a long time in order to look it up later, but...this is the google age, and I immediately searched for it. And alas..........herpes medication. Suddenly I remembered all those free spirit commercials. The frolicking. The swings. Bowling. And then, I could hear Matt's voice saying, "You got that herp."
Now, we all know by now that herpes has MANY forms. Cold sores, shingles, chickenpox, and the not so laughable genital herpes. So it should be obvious that one type of medicine would be designed to attack all forms of herpes. ...Doesn't make it any more fun to take! Seriously? Herpes medication? Man... But I took it. For a week straight, I took it three times a day, even though it gave me headaches and probably increased my fever. I took it.
The first night was hellish. My fever hit 102, and the sleep I got shouldn't even be called sleep. On the second day, I was up to 103, chugging sports drinks and struggling to stand. On third day, I was at 104, and thought I was gonna have to be hospitalized. My neck was stiff, my back was killing me, my head was splitting and I couldn't really maintain any train of thought. My girlfriend had been bringing daily supplies of food, sports drinks and water, but I couldn't eat much. Then, in my delirium, my eyes caught a box in my drawer that I thought I'd thrown out long ago. The text on it was written entirely in Japanese, but somehow, my eyes focused on one character: 熱. That's the character for fever. It was a box of ibuprofen! Totally forgot I had it! Now...I probably should've checked if there were any crazy interactions between ibuprofen and Valtrex, but I think my brain already considered me dead, so we just took out some pills and chugged them down with some water. Suddenly, my thoughts were clearing, and my temperature was dropping steadily. Before I knew it, I was at my normal 98.2. And I was starving! My girlfriend scolded me later for mixing meds without checking with the doctor first, but it was all OK later. We called and checked, and the doctor said it was cool.
And that's pretty much how it went for the next week. I couldn't go to work. I couldn't leave the house. I just sat at home, watched my endless store of movies and TV, and tried to keep my fever down. At some point, one of the old ladies in my Wednesday class decided to start bringing me food as well, which meant I had a grandmother AND a girlfriend dropping off supplies. Needless to say, I didn't finish everything. Felt horrible about that... Also, it looks like I gotta make up the days I missed at work, but that's not so bad. I mean, my schools were kinda enough not to get a substitute, who would've gotten the pay for those day instead of me. Yeah...I like these people.
All in all, I'd say it was a pretty good experience! My brain almost boiled, but...hey! That happens, right? And I got that horrible disease out of the way...for the second time. Admittedly, my first time around was kinda weak, but still. Honestly, it was like a long, forced vacation. Almost like my body telling me to just stop everything.
Looks like it's back to work on Tuesday. Wish me luck!
J
No comments:
Post a Comment