That Whole Dying Thing

For anyone who's keeping track, I'm pretty much better. I still take a minimum of one two-hour nap every day, and I'm technically not supposed to work until next week, and I'm only supposed to work short shifts for the rest of the month. Ha. I laugh in the face of mononucleosis. But not in the face of my wallet, that's for damn sure. I closed tonight, which was a bad idea, but I made it through and made my tips.

Oh, and as for the final update. By Sunday morning, my tonsils had swelled so much that my throat was almost completely closed. (I say "almost" because Joe managed to dribble Capri Sun down my throat after I had managed to croak that I was incredibly thirsty--and yes, dribble. As in put-finger-over-straw, place-straw-in-mouth, release-pressure.)

I knew damn well I needed prednisone to take down the swelling; my doctor had told me as much. Basically, "Hey, if your throat hurts too much, come back and we'll prescribe some steroids." My tonsils hadn't started swelling until Friday afternoon, though, after the clinic had closed, and Friday and Saturday had been manageable. Sunday was not. Since our spectacular country with its spectacular health care system effectively bars much of the populace from obtaining affordable health care 1/7 of the time, I braced myself for the $500 thwack of an emergency room visit. Fortunately, Joe called my mother first, and she managed to contact her doctor friend, who called in a prednisone prescription to Wal-Mart. I took my pills (try doing that with almost no throat left), went to bed, and woke up an hour later, tonsils still swollen and touching the uvula, but with that precious quarter-inch of space that allows a person to swallow.

But I'm better now! Regular-sized, pus-free tonsils. You don't know how great that is until you've tried the alternative.