Well, it sure as hell ain’t Godzooky. (If you get this reference, you might be an old fart, like me.)
One of the blogs that I follow posted a “congratulations on surviving May” meme drop on Monday and boy, that really hit close to home. Like way too close.
I hadn’t been feeling well for a bit, but figured that it wasn’t too major. Some of the symptoms I chalked up to either my meds, my anxiety, the change in the weather, or a combination of all of them. Then, I discovered that I had a UTI. No big deal, hit it with enough cranberry juice and I’ll be fine.
Not this time.
I was off last Thursday and Friday and I started feeling terrible. Thursday evening was the first time I vomited. The next time was at 3:30 Friday. Then, in the evening on Friday. Then, on Saturday morning as I was getting a temperature readout from an oral thermometer.
Prime told me to get dressed. He was taking me to Urgent Care. Now I was supposed to be at work by 11:30 and work a full eight hour shift. But at that point, I didn’t fucking care.
I’m seriously glad Prime was insistent. Because I don’t know what might have happened otherwise.
I was at Urgent Care for about an hour and a half; while waiting for test results I called work and told them that I couldn’t make it in that day. (I also got an excuse as well: I had a free weekend and all I did was lay in bed the whole time.) The results: a bad bladder infection, one bad enough to cause fever, chills, nausea, and vomiting.
So, anti-nausea meds and antibiotics. Yay. And drink a lot more fluids.
I’m feeling better. Definitely not 100% but a lot better. Powerade has been the go-to drink of choice for me–electrolytes–and I’ve been attacking those little cups of Jell-O left and right. (Word of advice: if I start asking for Jell-O, I am ridiculously ill. I can’t stand the stuff and will only eat it if normal solid food looks disgusting.) But I’m slowly getting better, so there’s that.
It can only get better from here, right? Right?!