The poison mind

So the strep is slowly diminishing. Now I have poison ivy. All over my legs. While the itching is driving me nuts, what is making me even more nuts is that I have no idea where I got it. I'm suspecting either one or both dogs. They got baths last weekend after all this started, and I washed their bed, but I have no way of knowing whether my decon got all the poison oil off them, or whether they spread it to places like our carpets and sofa and other places. I'm also washing pretty much every piece of clothing I've worn in the last 10 days in case there is oil on those. Trying not to touch anything in my own house is getting a little old.

Today's Philly newspaper was incredibly depressing. First of all, these people should be kicked out of the human race. This is an outrage. You neglected your severely disabled child until she died alone and starving with her skin rotting off, and then you sue the City of Philadelphia for not doing its job? You've got to be f***ing kidding me. It makes me cry to think of what that poor girl endured, and what she could have been if someone had cared for her properly.

And then these guys. They should both be put in wire cages and infested with vermin for a couple of years, then brought out to the compost heap and shot because their owners didn't want to drop $50 on their care and maintenance. I wish their victims could come back to life and collectively chew their limbs off one at a time. No name I could call them would be insulting enough.

Here's what I don't get. Everyone complains about puppy mills, especially here in Pennsylvania where they abound, but maybe, instead of changing state laws*, we should be outlawing selling dogs in pet stores nationwide. The pet stores (and their clueless customers) are the reason these profiteers make a good living from mass-producing dogs in substandard conditions. Take away the pet store market, and it's going to be hard for these scumbags to make money, plus the clueless general public won't be shelling out to a pet store because they see a cute little puppy in the window. A decent breeder wouldn't sell animals to pet stores. Only a profiteer would. So why not eliminate that option altogether?

As for me, I think when the time comes, we'll be adopting our next dog from a shelter. Given the not-so-savory reputation of our fine state's dog breeding industry, I'd rather not contribute my money toward furthering the work of this so-called enterprise. Not to knock all the good and legitimate breeders of greater Pennsylvania, but given the mass rescues that have been going on, I'd rather rescue a needy dog from a date with the needle than pay to create an expensive new one.

*While Rendell's proposed dog law changes are well-intended, they also create some major obstacles for keepers of sporting dog packs - but that's a whole 'nother post....

A little unwell

OK. So I went to the Minute Clinic first thing Saturday morning. I saw a practitioner whom I overheard introducing himself on the phone: "Yes, I'm Michael Richards. R-I-C-H-A-R-D-S. Yes, like the guy who plays Kramer on Seinfeld..."

Anyway, he was a very nice guy and did his best to help me out, even pointing out that my evil insurance company had not jumped on the bandwagon to join seemingly every other one in existence in covering this service. "We're still negotiating with them." Heh.

So $69 later, my strep diagnosis was confirmed (good thing, because I am losing the ability to open my mouth without agony at this point, making culturing unlikely without a crowbar). I walked out of there with prescriptions for an antibiotic, a steroid, and Tylenol with Codeine due to severe pain. I picked up my beautiful drugs and headed home to ingest them, eagerly anticipating relief, and hoping I'd feel somewhat better by the end of the day, or the next morning.

Nope. Not happening.

It's a little better, but not much. The sleeping is better, the swallowing is somewhat better, but the ability to eat and drink has not returned. I've now tried ingesting a variety of narcotic and non-narcotic pain relievers in different combinations, because the Tylenol with codeine didn't even make a dent. I've been subsisting mostly on chicken soup and herbal tea, both warm. Plain water or any flavored beverage stings. Salt water is soothing so I've been using it as a chaser for pretty much everything, but it's not good from a hydration standpoint.

I did seem to hit a sweet spot yesterday afternoon and choked down a small meal and some white wine during a friend's 40th birthday party. But otherwise, pretty much any substance entering my mouth and passing down my throat is making me flinch.

I was also dumb enough to read those little handouts that come with the prescriptions. One of the side effects of one of my medications was the development of a "black, hairy tongue. This symptom usually disappears when medication is discontinued." Usually?

I had to spend today working in Maryland, so I called my doctor's office (now that they are back from their lovely three-day weekend) to see if I could come in so they can give me some miracle drug that will actually get rid of this nasty thing. They were, of course, swamped by all the people who have been waiting for help since Thursday, and can't get me in until late tomorrow afternoon. So I'm sitting here obsessing about antibiotic-resistant disease strains and whether I have one.

Also, I'm very hungry.

Just to make this even more annoying, you'd think three days of essentially fasting would take a few pounds off.

Nope. That's not happening either.

Off the track

If anyone out there can explain how to get a site tracker working on Blogger, please do so. I've now tried two different trackers and neither one is working, probably because I couldn't figure out where to plug in the HTML code. Please!!

Why?

Because I'd really like to know what bizarre Google search terms are landing people here.

A medically unpleasant week

It's been a rough week around here. We got home from travels with the family on Monday evening. As I was reuniting with my buddy George, I noticed a lump the size of a marble on one side of his throat that was not there a week ago. So, we're on Round 4 with his "benign" tumors. He went to surgery yesterday and came home from the vet last night looking like Frankenpoodle with his neck all shaved and stitched back together. They sure gave us our money's worth on the incision length and sutures, and they damn better with what this is costing us. No wonder these people are so happy to get us right in there when we need to see them. They know every time we walk through the door with this poor lumpy dog that we're good for $1,000 and up.

Meanwhile, since Wednesday afternoon I have developed the sore throat from hell, accompanied by low-grade fever, ear pain, aggravated tonsils, and chills. Literally every swallow feels like I'm being stabbed in the tonsils, and trying to swallow anything besides my own spit is like being stabbed twice. I've tried every home remedy known to man. Hot stuff, warm stuff, cold stuff, carbonated stuff, fruity stuff, salty stuff, bland stuff, numbing stuff, and lozengey stuff are all painful to ingest. Ibuprofen and Tylenol are doing squat. Sleep is difficult at best. I got up at 5AM this morning of my own volition, wishing I had access to one of those dentist vacuums that sucks all the spit out of your mouth, just so I wouldn't have to swallow for awhile.

Of course things started to get really miserable today, when I was trapped in a hot van with a bunch of state DOT people doing a field view two hours from home. In 93-degree weather. At lunchtime, I snuck in a call to my doctor to see if I could get in there at the end of the day. But nooooo! They're taking a long weekend and the office has been closed since last night. I probably should have called the backup doctor at this point, but I had to attend to matters at hand.

So I finally get home around 7, decide the pain situation is now too much to handle, and call the backup doctor. After a good long wait, I hear back. He's all "If this is bothering you so much, why didn't you go see someone yesterday?" Um, because I work and had to travel? Because I thought I would feel better by today? Because I've never had a sore throat go on this long? Because I haven't had strep since I was probably 18, so why would it pop up now at 35?

He then cemented his membership in the Antibiotic Nazi Club and flatly refused to prescribe me an antibiotic for the strep throat or bacterial infection the Internet has convinced me I have. He did say there is this Minute Clinic at the nearby CVS with a nurse practitioner who might be able to see me.

(Note to self: Find a doctor like my mom's, who will write an antibiotic prescription at the slightest fever or cold symptom)

So I call CVS. Yes, they have a Minute Clinic. And it just closed. But there is hope - they reopen at 10AM tomorrow. I might not have to suffer til Monday and risk developing rheumatic fever, which the Internet warns might happen if you have strep and don't take an antibiotic right away.

So then DH demands to know whether this Minute Clinic takes Blue Cross, or will a visit there mean a hideously expensive non-covered and non-refundable bill. Having offended in this manner at least once before, I call Blue Cross to check our coverage. A voicemail sweetly apologizes that their entire system is being updated and is offline today and tomorrow, and thus the call center is not accepting calls. At all. Please try back on Sunday!!!

You've gotta be kidding me.

Current plan of attack is to somehow get through tonight, which should be doable if I can find that hidden stash of Vicodin I swear we still have from when Magoo was born. Then head to the Minute Clinic in the morning, and ask them if they take my benefits, and if not how much it will cost to pay off the nurse practitioner to get me drugs that will either get rid of this evil malady or at least dull the pain.

Moral of the story: Get sick at the beginning of the week next time. And ignore anyone who tells you it will probably go away in another day or two, and hie thee to the doctor.

Oh, and how I used to think I was so special growing up because I was the only person I knew who still had their tonsils? Not so much. I want those suckers out. OUT! I've now had 4 bouts with tonsillitis since last fall. Don't want any more.