28 Days Later: a brief medical history


You know when you go to bed with a slight earache, and then you wake up thinking “wow, this kind of really hurts now and there is a lot of water coming out of my ear” and then you realize it’s actually blood? 

Oh is that just me? Yeah I’ve definitely had better mornings.

The irony (there is actually a lot of irony in this story) is that my previous blog entry is all about being un-sick. Well let me re-define sickness to mean: feeling symptoms of illness. Clearly, I still have some shit going on. Clearly.

I feel like at this point I should really come out with the whole story, because I’m clearly not making it out of the woods anytime soon and I should probably establish a record of this to leave behind when all of these ailments finally do claim my life.

It all started on December 31st when my leskibro Keith took me to a magical New Year’s Eve celebration held in a cozy warehouse in downtown San Diego. Where dreams come true. I don’t drink, so I was mostly sober (let’s go with that) and surrounded by a bunch of dirty hippy strangers dancing their faces off, essentially, my ideal state. Obviously I picked up a sore throat from this, but it was mild and I didn’t care because I got to ring in 2014 in Narnia surrounded by beautiful girls who all wanted to talk to me. Life was good.

(Irony part 1: If I had been drinking, I might not have gotten this sore throat. Maybe the antiseptic qualities of alcohol would have helped. Maybe not, but it’s fun to think about)

I was feeling a bit worse when I rolled home at 6am. but much better when I woke up from a power nap at 8am. Still, the only symptom was fatigue from the shenanigans the night before and the sore throat. Completely manageable. I gargled with some Listerine like a champ and just went about my day.

That night I had to say goodbye to people so we went to the Yellow Deli (Yolo Deli) and of course I ordered the kid’s peanut butter and banana sandwich and as many coffee refills that I could get at 8pm. (4, the answer is 4). I ended up staying up most of the night, but it was fine. I was keeping myself steadily caffeinated and nourished with vegan things and I felt great all things considered. I was like “this is not a big deal, all we’re doing is road tripping today”

Keith and I drive up to SF (read: Keith drives, I DJ). Of course, we have to hang out and do fun things while he’s here, so Thursday night we stay up, Friday night we stay out (1015 Folsom, always a pretty OK time) and on Saturday I start to notice some things…

1. my sore throat is not going away

2. My glands are very swollen and I seem to be developing a rash on the side of my face. Uh oh.

After Keith leaves the next day, Sunday, I decide I need to check this out. It is painful, I have a fever. Lots and lots of problems. I suck it up and head to the Clinic on 490 Post and I am informed that I have a staph infection. Awesome.

“Are you allergic to any medication?”

“Yes. Azythromycin, and penicillin in general.”

“What happens when you take these?”

“I die.”

“Okay, so we won’t give you any of that.”

“Great, thanks.”

*actual conversation*

I walk out -$250 but with life-saving medications. Yay! I begin the course, staph is dissipating, but due to low immunity (I’m guessing) I acquire the illness of my dear roommate Zach. I spend the next week simultaneously recovering from a staph infection and having a cold. The cool thing about this was that it really kept me on my toes. A new symptom every day. Sometimes I had a sore throat, other times I was sneezing, coughing, congested, chills. It was like a surprise every time. Fun. Fun. Fun.

Until about 8 days into this when I was about to begin my second to last day of these supposedly safe antibiotics. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to take them because I woke up with a fever of 103 and a rash all over my entire body. (Hint: this is what happens when antibiotics are about to kill me). 

Back in the doctor’s office, I leave with two more medications and a shot and -$220. But again, my life has been spared so I’m not that upset by it. This is when I return to my apartment and hibernate for days and contemplate the meaning of life.

When I am finally mostly recovered from this, I had that magical day of being un-sick when I went to Lush and did fun things and I thought my life was on track. It turns out though, that I was still having major chest congestion, I was coughing and having pretty low-energy all around.

But this was slowly dissipating. I was happy. Each day I was feeling better and I even started working! Yes! I even did yoga on Sunday. I did a thing! Life is good.

Until this morning when I woke up with my pillow covered in blood and I’m just sitting here wondering what the fucking fuck is my life?

(Irony part 2: I have the healthiest lifestyle of anyone I know, and yet I have been sick for almost an entire month).

After frantically Googling my symptoms, I determined that in addition to cancer, it is probably a residual effect of my staph infection which was on the same side of my head. The only problem here is that if it is infected, then I need to get on antibiotics, which kill me. 

I’ll have you know, I only cried for about 20 minutes over this, until I gathered the impetus to do something productive. I made coffee and breakfast and now I feel immensely better. I’m actually in no pain at all and I think while I’m waiting for my health insurance from Starbucks, I’m going to go to the farmer’s market with Josh and try to clear my head. 



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