culturemash

I hate getting sick… it only happens to me when good things were to happen in its stead.

To dig it up further …

• 6 years old - Leyla gets the flu when her old neighbor and childhood best friend makes plans to visit from her end of Akron, Ohio to where we lived a year later (the other end of Akron). I witnessed my brother, her and her brother getting picked up to go do something fun and amazing, leaving me behind to blankets, snot rags, and my mother’s gross Iranian chicken soup. (it’s not really gross, but I thought so at the time).
• 14 years old - Leyla gets the stomach flu when her relatives fly in from Germany and for the first time ever, my mother voluntarily wants to get a group together and go to Disneyland. This NEVER happens. I spent the majority of that visit sleeping next to the bathroom, shivering and guessing the fun being had at It’s A Small World without me.
•  21 years old -Leyla gets sick just before a planned trip to Maui.

Let me remind you, I have not one … but THREE “Best in Attendance” certificates from various points in my lower education years. This is not a coincidence, this is my luck. I only get sick, where or when there is fun to be had. It’s FACT.

So, when I began having symptoms of ailness last weekend, I denied it. I got home from Mike Fischer’s birthday party to a fever, after getting drunk and having spent the majority of the early morning at Del Taco on  Washington and Lincoln. The sore throat was apparent, the coughing an indication of my situation. But the next day I got up, put on a shiny dress, drew eyeliner on my puffy eyelids and suited up for a big family celebration - my brother’s engagement party.

Oh wow … I was definitely the gross one. I had a lung full of mucus and God knows what else, my nose was a incessant faucet of germs, but God damn it … I was gonna show face at this event. I even had originally tried to organize it, but the fever kicked it high gear the morning of.

Fine. I’ll be sick. But only one day off. I just needed good rest… and the rest would work out fine.

And it did… the cough went away, the throat was all better. Nevermind I had zero sense of smell or taste, but i could drop about 20 lbs … so all in all, not bad.

Oh, and here’s the other thing about being sick. All the important people you never see on a normal basis roll into town and have appointments booked from weeks or months ago. So that’s always fun too. Hacking up smurfs while you try to get your Japanese business partner an espresso is unique. Especially considering the culture itself has such an aversion to germs, they were medical masks on a regular basis out of COURTESY.

Did you want some cinnamon on that <<COUGH>>… let me get you another one. (FUCK ME).

Well that’s it. I’m better. I paid my one week in dues. I negotiated with my nose ever leg of that duration. I was mostly losing, but I figured sooner or later I’d sneak in a dry day or two. After all, I’m young - relatively healthy.

oh no… oh no no no no.

Day 8 of my cold:

Wake up to seething pain behind my eyes. What’s left of them feels like I should be able to pop them out with a spoon for relief , but that fantasy is not possible. Movement is hell. I bend down to grab something off the coffee table - BAM … I feel like my head has exploded… only an explosion would at least mean some relief.

No … this is hell. This is the type of shit people at Guantanamo should really get. So I go through the Medieval tactics I hear from everyone.

• “Steam your face… with one of these things 1)eucalyptus - cuz, you know … I can just grab that in LA 2) Vic’s Vapor Rub … which turned out the best actually, but I was so plugged I couldnt’ event smell it 3) Chamomile tea - which I suppose was nice, but again … it could have been Earl Grey… I felt nothing.
• Saline in the nose, my dad’s personal favorite. And yes, when it’s close to 9% salt… it should theoretically be same pH as your blood … but it’s still friggin’ gross. Not to mention tasting salt in the back of your throat that just passed through your sinus system is ucky.
• rub your temples … well, unless these fingers could surgically go into my skull and actually push the mucus away, I don’t care for it.

Finally, the ER was needed. And let me tell you something. I was literally KIDNAPPED and taken there. When you have a 79 year old retired doctor for a father, this is like his month’s highlight. Him being a neurosurgeon … he actually gets off on reading Cat Scans. My dad and I spend 4.5 “cheerful” hours at the Torrance Memorial Emergency Room waiting to basically confirm what he knows.

I finally get the CT, and another hour later … a doctor finally sees me.

“It’s amazing you’re even standing. Half your sinuses are completely filled with fluid.”

Awesome.

“We’re getting you on steroid inhaler and Vicodine  for the pain. But you’ll need to see an ENT for a follow up.”
So that is basically it. My dad insisted for the confirmation, and probably to get all medical again and see my head’s xray which socializing with the local radiologist. But I have chronic Sinusitis .. .woo hoo. I’m on a steroid inhaler, strong antibiotics, and Vicodine if I can handle it. But all in all I just want to get back to my life. I’ve been indoors for the past week, I can barely even go over a speed bump without cupping my left eye as if that would provide any relief. And finally, to complete the full cycle … big projects and events are coming up for me at work. And naturally I have to be at home sick… on the few days that I REALLY wish I wasn’t.

So thank you everyone who called/texted/emailed me to check up. I’m even more grateful for my disturbingly over protective family and best friend/room mate.

I would do it… you know I’d do it. I would go into the office with a fucking humidifying strapped to my chest if you didn’t pull me back.

Tagged as hospital, sick + Categorized as personal