Wednesday, July 20, 2016

Highly Contagious

After feeling not great the past few days, I took a half day off work and Now-hubby brought me to Urgent Care. One of my coworkers had already been out last week with strep throat, so I didn't have the highest of hopes in regards to my own wellness.

Downside? Yes, I have strep throat.

Upside? The nurse complimented me on my deep throat abilities during the throat swab. ("Oh, you're very good.")

My recommended course of treatment: 5 days of Azithromycin and 24 hours sick leave from work.

Which means I spent a bit of time this morning shopping for new sex toys. It's been awhile since I've added to my collection, I have a bit of extra income during the summer, and I've always wanted a butt plug with a jeweled base. Also treated myself to something made of glass, because that's a material I've wanted to experience but haven't as of yet. (I'll leave it up to your fantastically perverted minds, dear readers, as to which one I got.)

The rest of the day was spent in a weird state of not-quite-sick, not-quite-well stress. I had already taken 2 doses of the medication and was feeling better. I didn't, however, have the energy to accomplish anything beyond finishing Nurse Jackie and getting a few more episodes in on The Affair. Credit to my fantastic mental quirks for each time I tried to lay down and rest only to anxiously fidget for 20 minutes before getting back up. Difficult to sleep when my internal voices are running the show. The ones that echo out of the past on how if I was really felling sick I wouldn't be able to get out of bed. Or if I'm feeling so much better then why isn't anything getting done around the house today?

Those sentiments were repeated often when I was growing up. They weren't always directed at me, but were said enough within earshot for me to internalize them. People who are feeling sick are probably exaggerating, and there's absolutely nothing worse than having to take care of somebody else. I'm getting much better at shutting those internal voices down. When Now-hubby and I were first living together, me even thinking about taking a sick day could have been an all-night emotional ordeal. Today, when Now-hubby got home from work, I only cried for 10 minutes over the laundry before going into the kitchen and asking if I could have a hug. I don't know if I'll ever reach a point where I don't have to frantically fold laundry on the pretense that if nobody else is going to be mad at me, I'll just be mad at myself. It's bolstering to know that I'm still making progress, and that I can handle a slightly weakened immune system without having to completely impair my emotional system as well.

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