I have had a terrible cold for a month. I have “Seven Dwarf” symptoms too-- Dopey, Sleepy, Sneezy and Grouchy. I’m thinking I need Doc, but I know what she’ll say: “It’s a Virus.” But I’m miserable enough to risk getting the "V" word.
Nice Lady at Doctor’s Office (NLDO): “What are your symptoms?
Me: “Green *goo* pouring out many of my orifices and the total loss of 4 of the 5 senses.”
NLDO: “Do you have a fever?”
Dishonest Wench (still me):“Yes, 101 (always a good number to say when you’re fibbing about your temperature) but I took Ibuprofen so now it’s normal.”
NLDO : “When can you come in?”
I’m on the schedule, but not home-free. In years past, green *goo* (which wasn’t a lie) was the ticket to getting a prescription. Now? Not so easy. Mentioning a fever, may make a bigger impression. I’m hoping I can manage something like a friend of mine, who was bequeathed with a prescription when he “saved” what was sure to be a sensational, slimy “loogie” for an hour until the doctor came in. He hawked it up right then and there, in its brownish-green glory. I only hope I’m that lucky.
In the doctor’s office, I’m sweaty, which can only work to my benefit, and coughing.
“You’ll need to wear this mask.”
Now I REALLY can’t breathe. My one good nostril is over-extending itself even farther over to the other side of my nose, seriously blocking my already bad nostril. Struggling to inhale? This can only be a good thing when it comes to looking pitiful. 30 minutes of re-inhaling my hot, germy exhale later, my name is called.
Sadistic Person: “Can you step on the scale?”
Sadistic Persistent Person: “Will you step on the scale?”
Stubborn Fat- Yet- Sick Person (me): “Do I have to?” Childishness is definitely a symptom of some kind. My mental faculties are diminishing. Doctor—HELP me!!
After only two minutes with the doctor:
Vicious Drug-Withholding Monster (VDWM): “It’s a virus.”
Honestly Sick Person wishing she had a loogie of any size available (me): “Did I mention I’ve been sick for a month? Don’t you want to prick my finger or something?”
Old Person-because only old people say “When I was a kid” (still me): When I was a kid… they pricked your finger with a nasty pointy silver stick, and a nurse dressed all in white would suck my pooling blood up into a straw, and, while I was still holding a cotton ball on my throbbing digit, I got some dad-blame penicillin and I felt BETTER!!”
VDM (unaffected by my ramblings): “Doctors have been over-prescribing...” Followed by mumbo-jumbo, doctor speak that my ears interpret as “I want to take your money and do absolutely nothing for you”.
Old and Defeated (you know who): “What should I do about this *virus*?”
Rather than hitting the pharmaceutical lottery and leaving with a piece of paper for my druggist, I took down the formula for concocting my OWN home chemistry-spun “Mucus-cide” (or sorts), instructed on how to use the nasal power-washer and told about the benefits of chicken soup. None of which worked, I may add.
Next time I’m skipping the MD and hunting for a WD (witch doctor). Hit me with a voodoo stick, blow white powder in my face and tattoo my forehead, I don’t care--only fix this snotty nose!
Ting Tang Walla Walla Bing Bang