I started feeling a pain in my throat last weekend. I knew right away it was an infection and wouldn’t get better without treatment, but I thought I’d have a few days until it got really bad. And I was right. A few days later it was really bad. My throat was swollen, my tongue was swollen, my ears hurt and I couldn’t swallow without it feeling as though there were knives in my throat.
I was even having trouble breathing when I was laying down.
But, other than that, my girlfriend, her son and I had a great time on Wednesday at the Museum of Science and Technology in Ottawa.
I’ve been on antibiotics since Thursday night… 1500mgs of Novamoxin (Amoxicillin) per day for a total of ten days. Plus two Extra-Strength Advil every couple of hours for its anti-inflammatory properties.
The “glands” on the right side of my neck were swollen as well… but there was never any fever, which I find weird.
The swelling in my throat has gone down substantially since yesterday (Saturday)… I can swallow now, but these crazy and deep valleys have appeared on my tongue since its swelling has gone down. It’s like my tongue has split… I can count four cuts, but I know there’s more further back. They’re like giant paper cuts, but they’re the only really painful part of this left.
Until last night, when I had a hamburger, I hadn’t been able to swallow solid food for almost a week… I could barely swallow liquids. So I’ve been ravenous since Wednesday. Since Thursday night my stomach has been waking me up and I’ll spoon half a tub of yogurt into my mouth before I realize I’m not in bed anymore.
Actually the only foods I could eat over the past week have been milk, water, yogurt and applesauce. But not if they were really cold. Anything carbonated was pure torture, even orange juice, tomato juice and V8 were difficult after the first swallow.
Because I couldn’t swallow food I couldn’t keep my blood sugar in the right place, so I was constantly feeling run over. My blood sugar crashed, I’m sure, at least once. On Wednesday, just before we went to the Museum, I was turning into a zombie so I chugged (as fast as I could given my health status) an A&W root beer. It made me feel almost as bad the other way, but at least my girlfriend told me I wasn’t grey anymore.
I did manage to take every dose of the anti-manic depression medications. The last time I was really sick — albeit not nearly as sick as this time — I stopped taking them. That was… four or five years ago. Back then I had a really bad flu and thought it’d be a good idea to use Benylin DM-E, which is never a good idea if you’re trying to recover from any kind of depression.
Because I was basically unconscious during the roughly eight days I was trapped in my bed, I began missing doses… and that was that. Even though I started taking them as soon as I started feeling better, I had a fairly significant depressive episode and ended up staying in bed for an extra month.
This time around I haven’t been taking my diabetes pills as often as I’m supposed to… at least not at the proper times. But I have spent a lot of time trying to make sure I don’t pass this thing on to my girlfriend.
Which is ironic because she’s the reason why I didn’t have this throat infection checked out in the first couple of days. The wait at the local emergency room is generally six to eight hours, and on the Sunday when my throat first got bad enough that I knew it was going to get worse we had dinner at my parents place.
I didn’t want to go to the hospital afterwards because it would have meant being up all night, and we had plans on Monday afternoon. Then Tuesday we were supposed to head to her cottage, so I didn’t want to be up all night on Monday. And Wednesday was our day at the museum with her son.
She would have driven me to the hospital, or totally understood my needing to take some time to recover, but I don’t think I even explained to her what was going on beyond “my throat hurts”… although she was the one who noticed my glands were swollen.
She did get pretty concerned on Thursday when I told her I was starting to have difficulty breathing, but that was after I got back from a clinic with my prescription.
She did bring me a bag of groceries the next morning… which was better than chicken soup.
I’ve noticed I have a hard time telling her things about me… I still haven’t told her about the manic depression, or that I’m on permanent disability, or even about how I grew up.
It’s starting to worry me a little.