4. Februar 2010

Appreciate my bravery

Normally I don't mind being sick. Sometimes a little, but not in general. That is mostly due to the special attention I get. However, it is nicer to hear my mother offer to bring by soup than hearing the geek acknowledge my suffering with a bit of "I think I am getting it, too!" And because I get so many of my DVD projects done, like the Gilmore Girls Season 1-7 Marathon. Right now it is Mad Men. Superb. But back to the story.

It all started on Monday, when I felt really crappy all day long. Like I was in a different body where I just didn't fit too well. Or running three steps behind all the time, never able to catch up. That in combination with the 100-years-of-solitude in the car may have caused Tuesday to be even worse, with freezing and shivering and a general NOT BEING RELAXED AT ALL, STUPID COLLEAGUES!

So I stayed in bed on Wednesday, sleeping most of the time and waiting for Godot. I felt so bad that I even used the nasal douche. Which I hate. It does not at all make me feel better but as Dr. Andy and the geek both swear that it does my sinuses some good, I succumb. Turned out, it did not get better.

And then today, when I went to see Dr. Andy, he was busy with people who had actual appointments. As if. I admit that I like going to see Dr. Andy not only because I trust him as a doctor, but because I like visiting him as a person. It is nice to chat with him PLUS I get to read all the magazines in the waiting room. Today: why Victoria Beckham is trying to leave size zero behind.

Anyways, the practice is a group practice and one of the other doctors had the honor to meet and greet the patients without appointment and - boy was I lucky - there was a medical student doing an internship. Not-yet-Doctor talked to me first and I liked him until he was not at all impressed by me having not only taken the nasal douche out of its package but put it to use already. Dr. Andy would have had the drumrolls ready but here I was stuck with Dr. Unemotional. Who just nodded and continued asking totally irrelevant questions like whether I had fever or stomach pain.

I was so mad that I did not even realize how or that I left the practice, loaded with prescriptions and my certificate of incapacity for going in to file my nails when the office door is closed. So here I am, fearlessly approaching the abyss of sinusitis and noone is appropriately impressed. Or ready to pretend to be.

All I ask of you now is to stand up and do the Mexican wave for me and my nasal douche. Thank you.

I'll be the one on the couch, whining.

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