I am sick for the third time in three months. I am sick of being sick. I am sick of fevers and sweating and shivering and my head hurting and wanting to cry out of sheer bloody frustration. The doctor told me that I probably have a virus. I nearly cried all over him. I hate viruses. I think they're a medical cop out. I go to the doctor to be fixed not to be told to do what I had been doing before I hauled my sweaty arse out of bed to see a doctor. See how that wasted several hours good sleeping time?
I completely blame my job for the recurrent illness. If I wasn't being worked like a fucking slave I'd probably be fine. It's not the least bit surprising that the one thing that keeps being a problem is my throat. It's strain. How much, really, can you talk in a day without your throat deciding that it's had enough? Yeah, I reckon I've reached that point. And then some. I still feel weak and like a loser for succumbing to illness.
The doctor shook my hand upon introduction. What the fuck? Is he insane? Does he want to catch something? He also said something about seeing me again to which I rudely replied, 'I hope not.' I mean really, I'm at the doctor because I'm ill it's not a social occasion. I have no reason to see him again unless I'm sick - is he wishing for me to be sick so that I can randomly come back and scam more Medicare money for him? He should have offered me quality drugs - I'd go for daily appointments for that. Instead he offered me nothing but advice I could give myself.
Fever makes me rant. Get over it.
9 comments:
If you got the illness from work, it could mean that certain viruses have learned how to infect people over the phone line. That the callers unknowingly imparted the virus to you simply by calling you up.
And having learnt dial up, it may not be long before the viruses discover broadband...
The rare times I've been to the doctor in the last 10 years, I've always been given the same advice. "Oh you have the flu? Take panadol and drink lots of water." "Oh your lymph nodes have doubled in size? Panadol and water!" "Need stitches? I'll stitch you up but you will need to also take panadol. And water." I fucking hate doctors.
Timty, your fevered mind has beaten my fevered mind to a bloody pulp. I am having trouble with all concepts at the moment. I got stuck on 'chair' for an hour...
Weirdly, the idiot doctor (it's so NOT a virus) greatly resembled the many pictures of you that litter your blog. Can you, just for one moment, imagine how terrifying it is to see a doctor who kinda resembles a depraved blogger you've never met? I expect a story by this time tomorrow. Also, stick with poetry - the doctoring thing ain't your gig.
Mish, you could not hate doctors anywhere near as much as I do. I hate them by name and location and irritating personal foibles i.e. if that freako man/woman doctor calls me 'good girl' one more time I'm going to track her down and shit in her shoes like the dog she seems to think I am.
Stress-related sickness? I'm surprised you care enough to get stressed.
I thought you more clear sighted than that, young Mark. This is about the make up of my personality rather than the c**ts I work for. I am virtually incapable of not caring, if you see what I mean.
oh dear... it's the sign of a good doctor that he doesn't offer antiobiotics for a virus just to keep a patient happy...
then again, if one would prescribe ecstasy to go along with the bedrest and water I wouldn't be complaining :-)
sorry you're sick
Nursemyra, I'm not at all sure it is a virus. The diagnosis, I admit, was entirely my own fault because I was so worried that I had tonsillitis again that I really only focussed on my sore throat. Fortunately not tonsillitis - he was quite right about that - however, the shit that's been coming out of my respiratory system kinda makes me question the virus thing. Now I have that I-smoked-three-packs-of-cigarettes-last-night feeling in my chest. Not cool, not cool at all.
I seem to know a disturbing number of people for whom "bleeding on the sheets" is a major hazard of daily life. My parents never seemed to have this problem; I'm certain my mother would have mentioned it when she was teaching me about the laundry...
Interrobang, I do wonder what those people are doing in their beds.
Getting blood out of sheets - or, indeed, anything - is a real art. It should be taught in schools.
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