I wanna be done. I want to not feel panicked anymore. I want to feel better. I want to work again. I want to see my friends. I want to stop itching and taking medication. I want to look like myself again.
“You look pretty miserable,” the nurse says to me, while I sit on the examination table red, blotchy and uncomfortably warm all over.
“Thanks,” I respond sarcastically. She laughs. It is a little funny, I guess, considering I was here around this time yesterday. But at this time yesterday, I only had a rash on my hands. Today, it’s all over my body. I feel like a walking sunburn that occasionally becomes itchy.
At least the fever I had yesterday at the onset of this spreading has gone away, as have the chills. Now, it’s just me, a rash and this grey-walled, Cardinals baseball-themed examination room.
“Wow,” my nurse practitioner says, both shocked and amazed at the fact that at this time yesterday she was telling me I was making a healthy recovery. Now I’m beginning to feel like Matt Smith from the Doctor Who episode “The Crimson Horror.” The difference is this isn’t Victorian London and I’m not the 11th Doctor, or any sort of doctor for that matter. In fact, it is a bleak an chilly Tuesday in suburban St. Louis.
At any rate, I end up being prescribed steroids after my nurse practitioner consults with my regular doctor, who happens to be in London right now. (See? This relates to Doctor Who in more than one way.)
I’m home now and I’ve taken a dose of steroids and a dose of Zyrtec. I look and feel less like “The Crimson Horror” and more like a tired Micki, which I am. On the way to the pharmacy, I treated myself to a spiced sweet cream cold brew and a slice of gingerbread loaf (which actually has candied ginger in it, as a chewy, spicy, holiday surprise!) I’ve also started the book “The Night Circus” by Erin Morganstern, which is dark and fantastical and everything I want on a cold, dark Tuesday.
So that’s me for now. I’m going to go watch that episode of Doctor Who. Have a happy Thanksgiving and great week!