I stayed home on Monday against my better judgement to try to get some extra rest as I had not slept well (coughing) and facing the little wildabeasts that gave me these germs in the first place seemed like unfair torture.
And Monday they spent the day patching and paving the part of the parking lot right outside my patio door.
No rest for me.
I went back to work Tuesday, not feeling a lick better and much to the frustration of my co-workers who tried their very best to diagnose my symptoms better than I had. "It's bronchitis" I said, armed with my WebMD knowledge and confirmation by the helpful pharmacist. "It's viral. I just have to wait it out."
"It's an infection," they retorted. "Bronchitis doesn't last this long without becoming an upper respiratory infection. YOU need to see a DOCTOR." They proclaimed with much disdain.
And so today, with barely a lick of actual work to do or teaching to teach at school, I called in a sub and stayed home again. This time, I vowed to go to the doctor.
Which is a bit more difficult when you are insurance-challenged. I have insurance (stop freaking out - yes, you in the back) but barely. When your employer doesn't provide it and you're working for, oh, not-so-very-much money, you make do with policies that will help in case your kidneys need replacing, but not so much help for seeking treatment for the common cold. Anyway, I digress.
I found the walk-in clinic and I trudged my butt there at 9:30 this morning, shortly after they opened. There were three people in the waiting room. It took an hour to get me in to the exam room. It took another half hour for the doctor to come in and see me.
"Bronchitis." Was his already foreshadowed verdict. But I gave him my best sad puppy dog eyes and I may have coughed more times than were absolutely necessary while he wrote up my paperwork and he finally agreed to prescribe for me an antibiotic "just in case". Nice fellow that he was.
And so I waited another hour in the pharmacy for them to fill my simple antibiotic order.
And I finally returned home 3 1/2 hours after I had left with medicine in tow that I am counting on with desperate pleas to heal me. And all I want now is a little soup and a little nap and I'll be golden.
But as I pull into the parking lot, I notice a truck pull in behind me. And as I sit down at the coffee table with my cup of soup, I see the distressing news unfolding. They are back. To apparently repatch and repave the parking lot. Right outside my windows.
So perhaps I will not get any rest.
But I am about to finish my book. So it's not a day wasted at all, is it?