So the fever was refusing to go away, the congestion and coughing were making every tiny ache exponentially worse, random organs were hurting, my eyes were stinging, my mouth and lips and skin were so dry I probably could have made for an excellent paper towel commercial, my dizziness and weakness were enough to simply keep me on the floor for random stretches of time, my jaw ached from the sinus pressure and because I found myself randomly clenching it against the pain, my joints were sensitive and throbbing, and in general I just kind of wanted to die. Therefore, after Ian got off work last night I mumbled something about going to the hospital because I knew I needed something to get rid of this crap since it has been reoccuring off and on since the beginning of February.

We got there around nine, I guess, and we didn’t leave until about one thirty in the morning. After triage (101.5 temp, 109/76 blood pressure, yadda yadda), a brief examination, nasal swabs, blood tests, and chest x-rays, the verdit: febrile illness. Not sure what febrile means? It means “fever.” Yeah, I KNEW THAT. All the tests came back negative for influenza, mono, and pneumonia, so it boils down to the fact that I’m just generically sick with a fever. Woopdee friggin’ doo. And people wonder why I don’t immediately run to the doctor every time I get a fever or have some congestion. Nine times out of ten, they either can’t find what’s wrong and just throw a lot of meds at me, they tell me what I already know is wrong and throw meds at me, or they tell me that it’s something my body should have gotten over on its own but my schedule is so insane I don’t have time to so they throw meds at me. I’m beginning to think the only reason I have for going to a doctor is to have meds thrown at me. Admittedly, they can prescribe stronger stuff than the over-the-counter varieties, but it still seems the all-important factor whenever I get sick is time. My body just needs time to get over these colds. Of course, that in and of itself is a complication because I’m pretty impatient and stubborn, willing to work through a lot of irritation which means the cold simply lingers longer than it should. So while I’m not the biggest fan of running out and seeking medical attention for most things, I guess it is nice to know they’re out there ready and waiting for whenver I do manage to come down with something unusual or worthy of a trip out of the house. I just wish I didn’t feel like such an idiot going for something like a stupid fever.

So now back to the title. I’ve been running this temperature for about four days now, I think–it could have been longer (we’re idiots and didn’t have a thermometer in the house so I could tell what my temperature was; we’ve fixed that and got a thermometer last night when we picked up the meds which taste nasty)–and I have been alternating between periods of burning up so much that I hopped in a cold shower then immediately lay down on the futon with the towel still on my head to freezing my butt off and needing just about every blanket in the house because of the chills. Yesterday at the hospital was no different. About every five minutes my perceived temperature would shift so I was alternately covering myself up with my jacket or throwing it back at the husband. When the lady came to take my blood, however, my temperature took a HUGE dive. Some of you know this and some of you don’t, but I have this huge fear of anything puncturing the insides of my arms (as in the soft underside where there’s no hair). Actually, it’s a bit more than that because I don’t even like people touching the undersides of my arms, and that’s one of the reasons why I don’t like long-sleeved shirts much and don’t wear bracelets or wristwatches. The first time I had to have blood drawn (one vial), I passed out. The second time I told the nurse I had to lie down to have the procedure done (2 vials) because I might pass out, but I managed to draw on my Irish strengths and just chattered my way mindlessly through the ordeal to distract myself. Of course, on neither of those previous occasions was I sick, so it could have been worse, I suppose. This time, I was sick, but I was lying down and had the husband there to talk to. Of course this time she drew four vials and had a heck of a time finding a vein in the first place. According to Ian, my skin color vanished. I suddenly felt very clammy, and when Ian touched me, he said I felt cold. And I did–a nurse came in not long after that and took my temperature and it was fine. It really hasn’t gone back up much after that. We joked with the doctor later about how my temperature dropped so much after having the blood drawn, and he agreed the shock of the blood letting must’ve done it. He even called it “blood letting.” So Ian and I suspect that that must be one of the reasons why blood letting lasted for so long because it did have a drastic and immediate effect on my temperature. Gross, but interesting.

At any rate, the cough medicine I was given has listed as one of its side effects: may cause dizziness, and I sure as heck am dizzy. I just ate a bunch of carrots. I hope I don’t get so dizzy I get nauseous and throw up my carrots. I need to go lie down.

Addendum: Yeah, I puked up my carrots. I’m too dizzy to be able to get up and run to the bathroom (I’d probably fall down on the ten-foot journey there), so I understandably had dragged the trash can over here. Go me for thinking ahead! Now I miss my carrots. Maybe I’ll have some potato soup to throw up next time.