Over the weekend I got sick. Not wanting the hassle of an ER visit I decided to hold off and just try to wait it out until Monday morning. Well, on waking up I decided to get showered, shave my sideburns into perfect mutton chops (I’m a big Grover Cleveland fan), and gel my hair better than Frankie Valli I all so I could be ready to get into the doctor should they have an opening. Around the time I was grabbing my towel my wife was talking on the phone. Her mother, my dear mother-in-law Wilma, had apparently had a bad morning of pain and had – ready for this – driven herself to hospital. We quickly decided that we would both go to drop the kids at school, then I would drop my wife off to be with her mom while I tried to get into my doctor. I left her at the ER downtown and headed off to have my strep throat verified and receive a prescription. I could tell you about it but I think it best at this point to include an email I sent to my dearest friend Dan. He suggested I reblog it unedited. The thing is we’re two guys. We’re from New Jersey. We’ve known each other a long time. I’ll redact some parts for the pure of heart.
Ever have strep throat, Dan? Have you ever experienced the disgusting hours of feeling like your throat had just been sliced up by a rusty razor blade – the kind you bought because it sounded like an awesome idea at the time to pay $20 for a razor with 7 blades and then your wife started using it on her legs and you were all “WTF? Get your own damn razor so it just sits on a shelf in the shower because you won’t touch it anymore and she’s totally done with it after one use…” Where was I? This **** is nasty. I mean, really, really nasty. Yesterday the nurse said to me “Blood pressure is a little high.” Actually she said “blood pressure’s a little hahh, sweetie.” She was speaking a particular dialogue of Texan I refer to as Dixie Belle Bimbo. Told her about my morning, dropping my wife off at the ER to check on her mom. “Don’t you ****ing lecture me on blood pressure you ******.” I told her. She looked at me a little confused. “I’m sorry. I confused you with another medical professional I used to know.” She swabbed my throat and left me sitting there. I had my choice of a magazines sitting in a basket. Fourteen copies of Cosmo, one Popular Mechanics, and three of WebMD the Magazine. Not a terrible magazine I just couldn’t search for fun stuff like strep.The nurse practitioner came in. She says “I understand you have high blood pressure.” I shot her a death stare. “Don’t even start with me. I’m here because of my throat.” “Well, first, let’s check you out. She proceeded to listen to my lungs and my heart. I think she was just feeling me up. Still not sure why she had to check my *****. When she finally got around to looking in my mouth she just said “Oh my God that’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen!” Why thank you. “I’m sorry,” she added, “It’s just… I’ve never seen this many large pus pockets in one place before.” I looked at her. “You’ve obviously never been to DC.” In the distance I could here a rimshot. Then she sent me off with a prescription for a bottle of pills larger than an old brick phone.Bottom line. Don’t ever get this *****.
Now then, Wilma’s problem turned out to be a gallstone. Do we forget that I recently had a spinal fusion and she recently had a double mastectomy after several months of chemo? My wife spent last night at the hospital and I had a wonderful time with the kittens. I woke up this morning already feeling better from those horse pills, got ’em dressed, and drove them off to school. Well, Sonny Boy requested that “free day” that Mommy had promised him so after walking Baby Girl to the door, Sonny Boy and I headed back home. We were in the middle of a History Channel show when I suddenly started to feel ill. No, this wasn’t the strep making a nasty resurgence. It was something different. This, my friends was a stomach bug. Just as I was getting up to head to the bathroom my wife and her mom returned home. I passed off my son and found my way to my bed where I slept for the next six hours.