One Hot Mama

I have been a bit under the weather the past few days. It all started on Tuesday night when my throat started to feel a little germy. I became incredibly worried that the plague of strep throat was about to overtake me once again.

I am justified in my paranoia. About two years ago, for some unknown reason, I became insanely susceptible to catching strep. I succumbed to the infection five times in six months.

Having never experienced the joys of strep, I ignored the symptoms the first time, assuming that my throat was irritated for some other reason. By the time I went to the doctor, I had a fever, chills, body aches and a gray bulge the size of Texas on the side of my incredibly inflamed tonsils. I was a mess.

The four subsequent bouts were really quite pleasant. As soon as I felt a slight tingle in my throat I would race off to the doctor's office to have my throat swabbed. Each time, the nurse would inform me that my throat wasn't even red and that I should just head home. After a little debate, I would manage to convince her that she should go on ahead and gag me with the giant q-tip. Five minutes later the doctor would appear and either write me a prescription for yet another bottle of antibiotics or stab me in the butt with a syringe of strep-be-gone.

On my fifth visit, the doctor pulled out the big guns in an effort to avoid having to perform a tonsillectomy. Apparently six bouts of strep throat in a calendar year is the magic number needed to justify the surgery, which I hear is especially miserable once you reach adulthood. I was prescribed four weeks of a delightful antibiotic that had me rushing to the bathroom as soon as it hit my stomach.

Mercifully, it did the trick and I have been strep free for nearly two years and counting... knock on wood. Now you can understand why I get a little manic when my throat starts to feel weird.

My first coarse of action Tuesday night was to rub a concoction of essential oils on my throat. I read in a book that it is supposed to fend off strep. Anytime I break out my oils, the hubby asks me if I plan on calling a witch doctor as well. He is so supportive.

I also gargled with saltwater, took a handful of vitamins and went to bed early. When I woke up the next day my throat felt much better, however, whatever had been plaguing my throat had now decided to cement itself into my left nostril. A few homeopathic remedies later, and I felt practically like myself again... until I woke up this morning.

The funk had managed to settle in my left eye sometime overnight. I awoke to find that my eye was blood read, incredibly watery, painful to the touch and half swollen shut. I have never been so attractive.

Not knowing what to do, I gently rinsed out my eye and went to the medicine cabinet in search of some sort-of remedy. I found a bottle of Vigamox leftover from when the boy had pinkeye a few years back. Luckily that stuff has a shelf life longer than a box of Twinkies so I promptly shot a few drops into my barely-open eye.

In all the excitement I forgot that the boy was going on a field trip today. He called me at 8:36 (school started at 8:35) to inform me of my lapse in memory and ask that I race up to the school with his class t-shirt and a tasty lunch packed in a brown paper bag. He also suggested that I wear my sunglasses... in the school... on a cloudy day.

Thankfully, the drops had managed to work their magic. My eye was only moderately bloodshot and most of the swelling had subsided. I was able to walk through the school without frightening the children or, more importantly, humiliating my son.

I'm sure that fate will afford me many more opportunities to embarrass him in the future. I'm sure he can hardly wait.