Strep Throat

My Life Writing class has a discussion board where we are required to post in response to questions for participation marks. I guess it's a good way to gain some free marks for those that aren't comfortable speaking in class. Anyway, one of the topics to answer to was to discuss our own personal "illness narrative." We've been reading some autobiographies which include the writer's personal struggle with some kind of illness.

In comparison with others, I don't exactly have a significant "illness narrative" and from what I can remember, the last time I was sick was almost a year ago when I had a bad case of strep throat in May. I had many sleepless nights. Not only did it hurt to swallow, it just hurt, period. I had to brace myself everytime I needed to swallow and, most of the time, I would just spit instead. I would keep an empty water bottle next to my bed. Yes, disgusting, but it was better than getting up every 5 minutes.

I'm not exactly a fan of hospital visits, but after I was sick for a week or so, I decided I should pay the Doc a visit. I think the last time I actually saw this particular doctor was when I was 11 or 12. The visit was pretty standard. He stuck a stick in my mouth, I said 'ah,' he gave me a slip of paper with somewhat legible writing, and I was off on my merry way to the pharmacist. Once I was on the medication, I began to feel better, but as soon as my magic little pink pills were gone, the strep throat came back with a vengence.

At this point, it was 3 weeks until my wedding day. I was afraid that after all the planning and patient waiting... who am I kidding? ... impatient waiting, that I would be sick and uncomfortable for the most important day of my life (too cliche?).

So off I went to the doctor. Again. My not-so-favourite place. This time I got a bottle of huge brown pills. Interesting dilemma. My throat was inflamed and puffy, therefore, smaller than usual. And now I had huge pills. Let's just say that before meals 3 times a day were not a time I looked forward to.

Anyway, the story ends happily with the restored normalcy of my throat and a big party to celebrate. Ok, the party was to celebrate the marriage, but I also celebrated the fact that I didn't have to spit in a bottle anymore.

2 comments:

Dave said...

I hope I can stop spitting in a bottle on my wedding day too. Or maybe I'll just move in with a cougar and buy a spittoon.

Hi Katie!

Kayls said...

okay so i don't know why i haven't seen your blog in forever but its a new layout and i like it. but i have lots of catching up to do as the last blog i read of yours is now at the bottom of your page.
if i had known about this class of yours earlier i would have given you a short book/mag called "the anatomy of an illness" which narrates the coolest illness and road to recovery i've ever heard of. okay - on to read your next post: i DON'T want to write my paper. maybe you'll write it for me?