Yesterday, I called the doc's office to see if they could see me. Yes, they could, but I would have to see some other doctor that I'm unfamiliar with. Would that be okay? I croaked it would be fine.
So, I go to the doctor, and am ushered into an exam room. The nurse takes a swab of my throat and does a rapid strep test. Negative, she happily tells me. No shit! I had a series of strep occurrences five years straight once. I know all about strep throat.
Then, some other doctor comes in, and I suspect she's related to the doctor who saw me when I gouged my hand open. She tells me to open my mouth, but isn't happy that she can't see, so she tells me she's going to have to "be a meanie". She grabs a tongue depressor and proceeds to pry my face open with it.
"Oooohhh! You still have tonsils!!" she says. Dear Lord, what have I gotten myself into?
She goes on to tell me that she can neither tell if it's bacterial or virus, but would I like a prescription for antibiotics anyway? Ah. She's one of those doctors. My PCP is from the school that antibiotics should only be a last resort. I'm along the same way of thinking. I prefer to allow my body's immune system to fight stuff off. If you ask me, antibiotics are overused WAY to much for every sniffle, cough, and sneeze. This is why we now have problems with crap that antibiotic resistant. At least I can rest easy at night. I didn't contribute to this problem.
The doctor then waves a bottle of Flonase in my face and tells me to use it to help with the congestion. "What congestion?!?" I whisper. At this point, I'm really sorry I can't yell. The good doctor looks puzzled for a minute.
Doc: You no want Flonase?
Me: No. It doesn't work.
Doc: You can take this home and try again!
Me: I have three of those things at home already!!
The doc then puts away her Flonase, writes me out a prescription (even though I didn't want it), and tells me just to get lots of rest and drink lots of water. Before she leaves, I catch her attention and whisper one word: mono! She pauses like this never occurred to her, but then tells me it could be mono...but there is no cure for it because it's a virus.
Well, no shit, Sherlock!
I tell her I want a mono test ran to rule it out, and she agrees. Before she leaves, she offers some parting advice.
"If it mono, don't play any contact sports because you can rupture spleen."
What!?! Look at me!! Do I look like I play contact sports??? (Although I did have a high school history teacher/football coach always say making out was a contact sport...he was later caught stealing Playboys from the local Gas and Go.)
Before I leave the office, I stop at the lab and they draw my blood. Because I dehydrated, my veins suck and the lab tech struggles. She gets a little blood and we both decide it's going to be enough. I'll be damned if she's going to go fishing in my veins again.
So, now I wait for the results of the test. If it is mono, I'm S.O.L. There is no treatment for it...just ride it out. If it is mono, I just have to refrain from kissing anyone, or sharing drinking glasses. And take lots of naps.