I hate when my mother is right. Well, I don't hate when she's right unless I happen to be wrong at the same time about the same thing.
She was sorta right on this. She was ranting and raving about me going to the doctor on Tuesday or I'd just get worse. I argued that if it was viral a doctor visit wouldn't help.
Well, I did get worse. I finally saw a doctor yesterday. I was right about the viral part, except he was concerned I was so ill it was turning into bacterial because of the uh, gunk in my head. So he gave me a liquid to stop coughing and coat the vocal chords, (which were being attacked by the virus) and an antibiotic. Said if anything turned green, start on the antibiotic.
It did. I did.
Yesterday I couldn't speak above a whisper. I told my husband it was an early Father's Day gift.
It is a little after two p.m. and my first foray out of bed today, except when the dryer repairman came and I had to talk to him a bit.
I'm weak as a kitten, grouchy as an old bear, and ugly as a stump.
What time would you like to (cough,sneeze) come visit?
Food is welcome.
That part of me, of course, is working great.
Signed,
If this keeps up I'll look like a beached whale
No comments :
Post a Comment