Can watching the Panthers die in Seattle cause a kidney infection??!
I gave in to the pain on Sunday afternoon, and asked Jimmy to drive me to one of those "doc in a box" places. There comes a time when you just know you need a damn antibiotic.
So I got one. I took the first one around 6 PM, and settled on the sofa to watch the game. Whooo. Brandy came over to watch with us, and Jimmy scrambled some eggs for our supper. Brandy said that whenever she had symptoms of a UTI, her stepmonster - er, stepdad - used to make her chug a beer ... and she would always feel better. Annie Lennox said it best ... "Who am I to disagree?" So I drank a beer. Since it was the first thing I'd had all day, it was the best Miller Lite ever. And I'll admit, I did feel better. Slightly.
Brandy gave up on the game at half-time, and as soon as she left, Jimmy fell asleep in the chair. I laid there thinking, "If we were watching ballroom dancing, he'd be awake!" After 30 minutes or so of snoozing, he decided it was time to go to bed. By then, the game was pretty hopeless ... so we closed up the fireplace and went upstairs to bed at 9:30 PM. We are old farts.
After going upstairs, I guess the beer wore off. I was in pain all night. Monday was spent wondering when the antibiotic was going to kick in. I felt "ok" ... enough that I thought I could make it through the things I needed to do. But when I'd start to do something, my strength would not show up. I felt like overcooked crap yesterday. And it only got worse as the day wore on.
I took the 2nd dose of Levaquin and waited for Jimmy to come home and "helppppp meeeee" ... only I forgot it was Jimmy coming home, and not Dr. Joe Martin from "All My Children".
We've talked about it before and we both agree ... Jimmy is not a nurturer. Jimmy wants to be left ALONE when he's sick, and he will do the same for you. I, on the other hand, will nurture you until you get well just to GET AWAY from me. And I expect the same when I'm sick. I want someone to bring me food and drink, and fluff my pillow, and hold a hand to my forehead, and look worried.
So back to yesterday ... in pain, frustrated, lonely ... poor Jimmy came home to THAT. He brought a small bag from Wendy's upstairs and asked me if I "wanted any" ... and showed me 3 small, nasty-smelling chicken nuggets. I made a face, he said, "No?" ... and he ate another one. The man brought me his leftover chicken nuggets for dinner. Then he said he had also bought a salad there too, did I want half?
Now to be fair, he HAD asked me what I wanted when I called him, crying in pain, earlier. I had said, "Nothing." This is a man who takes everything at face value. I said, "Nothing" ... he heard, "Nothing". End of discussion.
So I got nothing. When I would have loved a cheeseburger and maybe some fries. Even just fries would have made me feel cared-for. And if he had brought home chocolate ice cream, I would have felt like a princess. I know, I'm fat and don't need to be eating those things. But I was sick. And I needed some nurture, damn it. He then proceeded to leave me alone in my misery until he was ready to go to bed. (Sometimes treating people the way you want to be treated ain't the way to go.)
By that time, I was in some serious pain. Including my right kidney. Not good. (I have had one other kidney infection in my life, and I remember the pain. It was Vicodin-pain. It took weeks to feel back-to-normal.) Part of my tears last night were from the dread of going through that again, and part were from the actual misery. I was torn between heading straight to see a doctor, and the knowledge that I was already taking a strong dose of antibiotic. I knew they could give me some painkiller ... which was a really good reason to get in the car ... but it hurt so bad I didn't want to move.
Around 10 PM, I decided I'd go and call the "Nurse-Line" provided by our insurance company. I was going to ask what they thought I should do, considering I had only taken two doses of the antibiotic. I kept thinking that any minute now, it was going to kick in and I was going to be feeling better.
And as soon as I hobbled downstairs and into the kitchen ... that's exactly what happened. The kidney pain just vanished. Then I cried again because I was so relieved.
Is there an end to this long and boring-to-everyone-but-me story? No, actually. I did sleep for a 3-hour stretch last night, which is a vast improvement over the 3 nights before that. And the pain in my kidney is as good as gone ... it feels like I got punched there, really hard, about a week ago. Just the hint of a memory of pain. I can live with that. Peeing is still no fun, but that has improved, as well. Today I will take Dose 3 of 5, and hope for as dramatic a change as I got last night.
On Saturday night, I watched the Miss America pageant. I used to ALWAYS watch it, back in the day. But in the last decade or more, not so much. Don't know why I settled in to watch it on Saturday, especially since it started at 11:00 PM. But I was so surprised to see that Miss Georgia was a little girl that Adam went all through school with ... elementary through high school. She went to UGA, and I guess entered the pageant stuff there. Anyway, there she was ... Monica Pang ... looking every bit like someone who could win that silly thing. She had the very best talent of all the top 5. She was poised, she was lovely. She lost to Miss Oklahoma. Monica was robbed. She's the prettiest 1st Runner-Up ever. The local news did a segment on her last night ... interviewing her teachers at the high school. They all knew she was "something special". Chuh, right.
I've been feeling bad for teasing Jimmy about his gay TV habits. So I've decided to list all the ways the man I married is MANLY:
1. He knows how to fix stuff.
2. He wears Gold Bond powder.
3. He eats everything with hot sauce on it.
4. He farts and burps with pride.
5. He gets stuff from the basement or the attic when I need it.
6. He used to make stuff ... like bookshelves and tables.
7. He drives a truck. (This barely made the list. You know how I feel about that truck, Jimmy.)
8. He hates to go shopping.
9. He has supported his family, without complaining --- well, not much complaining --- for 27 years.
10. He mows the grass.
11. He takes the garbage can to the street once a week. And he brings it back in when I don't.
12. And seriously, the man knows how to fix stuff.
All of that, and he still enjoys good ballroom dancing on TV. :-)