You’re a Dirty Hooker


This is the story of my adventure at the doctors office recently. Earlier this week, my husband came home from a business trip not feeling particularly fantastic. Being the logical man he is, he went into work anyway for two days. We had family coming in from out of town and he wanted to get all his work done before they got here. Just to solidify his working and feeling crappy, he went ahead and also went to bed at midnight or later each night. Wednesday comes around and lo and behold its time to call the doctor.
He comes home with a typical story that i’m certain is exaggerated slightly totally accurate about how though he doesn’t have tonsils, it looked like strep throat. The culture came back inconclusive, so lab test will be done.
So last night im awoken from my slightly feverish slumber to a burning engulfing flame in my throat.
great.
I wake up and look to find tiny white spots near my tonsils. I make an appointment and they tell me I have to wear a mask after i get off the elevator
First off, how do they know im not taking the stairs?!
secondly, are you f-ing kidding me?!
This is where i begin to talk myself out of the appointment. surely my throat doesn’t hurt THAT much! Then i begin thinking about the completely unnecessary mandatory weigh in and im ready to call the whole thing off!
The poopy diaper, bickering kids, sick husband and laundry pile convince me to go.. err, i mean concern for my health and those around me.
I get off the elevator, grab the damned mask and walk the hall to my doc’s office like a bird flu refugee.
No one else is masked.
Why the f are all these people at the doctors office if they are well and not contageous?’
They are regarding me like a walking cadaver. horrified. the staff is making a giant circle around me to hand me paperwork to sign.
I had an urge to rip off the mask and start cackling just to check their reflexes
Maybe add some red lipstick for effect
Anyway, after heading back, im asked repeatedly if ive been exposed to someone who has it
Now, do i go into the story of how my husband tells me he has a super bug, or do i just say yes.
i just said yes.
then its time for the culture. the masked assistant whips out a yardstick qtip and asks me “do you have a strong gag reflex?”
this is a trick question
if i say no, im a dirty hooker
if i say yes, im a pussy
so i say, im good, its not a problem. i went for vagueness so she could draw her own conclusions about me
then she asks if she can use both swabs at once
what am i, a porn star?!
but i’d rather go through it only once so i tell her to go for it
she stands in front of me like an umpire staring down third base
i realized as she’s wiping the back of my head from the inside with a yard stick, the posture is to run in case i vomit in her face!
which i didnt.. because im a rock star.
a porn rock star!

I didn’t feel like she got all of my throat, but what do i know? Also, no one ever used a flashlight to look at my throat. They all had masks, and looked sideways down my throat as if looking into the eye of a basilisk.

turns out i didnt have strep.

I’m not a believer, though. My doc prescribed me some antibiotics in case it got worse over the weekend… and it did. So now i’m taking it. I’m making that effort worth something, damnit!

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