Thursday night I started feeling like ca-ca. Dave put me to bed early (7:30 ish) and did EVERYTHING around the house and with the kids. Bless my perfect husband! I had an incredibly hard time falling asleep, my brain was trying to burn it's way out the front of my skull. I feel asleep late, and had a fit-filled night. I woke up Friday morning determined to make it all happen; let Dave go to work, take care of kids, house, and everything else on my plate. Not so much. I called Dave at 8:20.
"Please come home", I begged. "I am feeling really sick".
I spent the rest of the day in bed moaning, writhing, and crying (blast those hot, fever tears). I couldn't even get to the bathroom unassisted (Katie, where were you?!) - I thought I was going to pass out.
I had spiked a fever of 103 which felt more like a million degrees. My body ached terribly. Dave came in to see what I needed and rubbed my leg; it make me wince, I was so achy and tender! My throat was sore. But mostly, my brain. Oh, my brain. It was killing me. and Ibuprofen had done nothing.
In the evening I sent Dave to the store for some Aleve; I've heard it works a bit better. It did nothing.
8:30 rolled around and I was starting to worry and get seriously nauseous. Because of the stiffness in my neck, I starting thinking things like; meningitis...aneurism...
Then, I sort of started to freak out, and might or might not have ripped of my clothes...
Dave called our neighbors and good friends to come watch the kids while he took me to the doctor. "Do you think I am ok?" I kept asking between sobs as we drove to the clinic. I hobbled into the urgent care clinic, sat in a chair and moaned and groaned. I was quite the spectacle I am sure. I was writhing; I changed positions about every two seconds - seriously. My hair was out. of. control. I had done it in a bun on the top of my head earlier that day so I could take a bath and then lay down without it messing with my head on my pillow. With all the discomfort, I had developed some great "dreads" on the back of my head. The rest was now flopping around on the top of my noggin. My mascara was smeared down my cheeks from the night before, and the crying. And to top it off I hadn't eaten anything (I tried!) because of the raging fever, and had some horrendous ketosis breath.
Then I barfed, right there in front of everybody.
What seemed like and eternity later, they finally called my name. To make a long story short; I have a nasty case of strep throat which, the doctor explained hits adults a lot harder than little kids, and mine is extreme at that.
So after one thick, gooey shot in the bum, a Zofran under the tongue, numbing throat rinse (which numbs my tongue more than anything), and prescription anti-inflammatory pills for my brain; I still feel like poo. You thought I'd say I felt better, didn't ya? :)
My throat KILLS today - much worse than yesterday. The brain pills help a lot though. When I feel like my cranium is shrinking down around my brain and it's about ready to come exploding through, I take another of those blessed pills. Otherwise, most symptoms are the same except my fever is gone.
Drake is already on antibiotics from the ear infections, but Carson and the baby are at risk. I am praying nobody else gets this. I am being very careful not to share my germs as I am still contagious for the next few hours. Also, I learned at the doctors that children under two are FAR less likely to get strep and the medical world doesn't know why, but that was a little nugget of relief for me. So that leaves Carson. We have a very close eye on him. What a blessing it will be if we don't have to take him in too.
After all this sickness, I suppose I am more grateful than ever for my sweet, little family, especially a worthy priesthood holder who can administer to us when we need it. I guess, all I can say, is mine is a blessed life :).
* I should mention some funny parts of this story:
Last night Carson and Drake saw me leave and were a bit concerned. Today while talking about it and trying to lighten it up a bit, I told them how I threw up at the clinic.
"You threw up?" Carson was immediately intrigued.
"Cool! What color was it??"....I'll spare you the rest of that conversation.
Also, while at the clinic, the ever-so-enthusiastic (NOT) assistant who checked me in was going through the run-down of symptoms, vitals, family history, etc.
"When was your last period?"