The one I wrote on Lortab 7.5

Looking back, I vaguely remember commenting to Rob late Saturday that my throat was sore. And, I know I said something to my Mom about it on Sunday. By Monday, the left side of my throat was outright hurting. Bad. Bad enough that I started alternating Tylenol and Motrin every two hours. On Tuesday, the pain continued (as did my Tylenol/Motrin regimen) and my throat and glands felt swollen. The swelling evidenced itself by causing a [oh so sexy] thickening and deepening of my voice.

Rob, Jake, Jenna, and I watched the Big Brother finale Tuesday evening and I was in so much pain that I was barely talking. And when I did speak, it was through clinched teeth because it hurt even to open my mouth or move my tongue. Jenna was being such a sweetheart rubbing my neck and jaw area to help the pain. I got no sleep Tuesday night.

Wednesday, I asked Rob to call my doctor’s office as soon as they opened to schedule an appointment. I got a 9:30 a.m. slot. Thank. God. The Physician’s Assistant I saw, Pauline, took one look at my throat and said I was getting three needles. First, I was getting blood drawn to check my white cell count. Second, I was getting a dose of Rocephin, an antibiotic, by injection. And, last, I was getting an injection of a steroid to reduce the swelling. See, I don’t have tonsils anymore, but the swelling on the left side of my throat was so bad that the tissue hung down to my tongue instead of forming the arc-shape it usually does. [And ewwww.]

Before I left, I asked Pauline to give me a prescription for something with codeine in it. (The bi-hourly Tylenol and Motrin wasn’t even touching the pain.) She wrote me one for Lortab 7.5 [woot!] elixir [ewww]. She said she needed to see me back today. I left with the impression that I had strep throat. I had the wrong impression.

I got to my appointment today at 2:00 p.m. and, naturally, the first thing Pauline did was take another look at my throat. After looking, she said, “I hoped it would look a lot better today, but it should at least be looking a little better. It’s not.” She next put a gloved finger in my mouth to feel the tissue in my throat. Brave woman. Lucky for her, I don’t have a very strong gag reflex.

Pauline looked at me somberly and said, “This is very serious.” Turns out, I have a PERITONSILLAR ABSCESS (in my throat, obviously, since I don’t have tonsils). I won’t even go into the details of that diagnosis. Google it if you’re curious.

So apparently, these abscesses can be resistant to antibiotics and can swell enough so as to cut off one’s oxygen supply. “One” meaning me. As in me not being able to breathe. No kidding.

Oh, and also, a peritonsillar abscess was responsible for George Washington’s death.

Who knew?

Pauline, that’s who.

She wrote me a prescription for a mega-dose of penicillin and said to come back in on Monday. Oh, and, if I start feeling the least bit worse tomorrow or over the weekend, I am supposed to go straight to the Emergency Room–do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars–where they will haul me back to the operating room for emergency surgery. As in cut that bad boy open.

So, I’m pretty doped up on the meds. (Lortab. It’s a good thing.) And, as I am about to drift off to sleep before I can finish this entry, I wonder. Will I be startled awake by a lack of oxygen to my lungs, heart, brain, and vital organs? Inquiring minds want to know.

And in my moment of crisis, guess where Rob is. He’s making the two hour drive back from his father’s house. Rob dropped him off there after he was discharged from the hospital today. After his echocardiogram. Which showed valve damage. Necessitating a heart catherization next Monday. And most likely open heart surgery next Friday. Seriously.

I am left to wonder what will be next.
These things come in threes you know.