I’ve got a crazy head-cold-turned-sinus-infection that’s really kicking me in the rear end at the moment. I’ve been sick for over three weeks and the pain in my head and face is getting progressively worse.
Talk about irony….I realized today it is Saturday and I won’t be able to get in to see my doctor until at least Wednesday because I’ll be in a hospital full of doctors all day Monday and Tuesday.
So I dragged myself the an Walk-In Clinic associated with our doctor’s office. It was handy, because they had all of my medical records in their system. I waited an hour and a half to see the doctor (not bad for a Saturday afternoon) and after a peek in my ears, nose and mouth, she wrote me a prescription for antibiotics. But not before asked if I was allergic to them.
“Oh,” she answered. “I wondered because there is no record here of you taking them. Ever”.
We’ve been at this doctor’s office for ten years and I’ve never needed them in all that time. Go me! In fact, unless I’m forgetting something, I haven’t taken them since 1995 when the two different doctors at three different visits refused to test me for malaria and instead gave me progressively stronger antibiotics. That went on for a couple of weeks until I ended up in the ER with a temperature of 106.7 and the ER doc decided to test for malaria. And it was positive. Surprise, surprise.
But I digress.
I did begin to wonder just what was written in my record though, when the doctor seemed very concerned about my mental health. And referred to my “busy” life at least four times. And wondered how I was holding up under the pressure (and I don’t think she meant sinus pressure). Keep in mind, I’ve never seen her before and we only discussed my current state of bacterial misery.
I assured her I was fine and mentioned I only came in on a Saturday since I didn’t think I could manage the pain until Wednesday explaining that I’d be at the hospital with my son on Monday and Tuesday.
“Oh, what is your son having done?” she asked.
And I couldn’t remember. For real.
Then again, I’ve made sixteen trips to Children’s already this year for who knows how many appointments and procedures, and my head was rather fuzzy from sickness and cold medicine. Hence the visit in the first place.
I did manage to remember it was to swap his PEG for a mic-key and told her so.
And now I’m home, with a bottle of antibiotics.
And, I hope, some relief.