FLH is on the mend, but now I have it. Except I have a fever.

FLH forced me to go to the walk-in clinic, and had I not, he apparently was arriving tonight via the airplane ticket he was holding. Not that he didn’t trust me or anything.

Luckily, Dr. K was on at the clinic. I’ve seen Dr. K for other emergencies and he’s a good doctor. Probably better than my internist. I was really glad to see him, and especially glad that I was seen within the hour. Never a guarantee at the walk-in clinic.

The medical assistant did a minor freakout at my O2 saturation of 97%. I guess once you look old, they start using the pulse oximeter. So why was she surprised when my BP registered 178/98? I immediately figured I had pneumonia.

Dr. K didn’t agree. Sats were normal, he said, and my lungs sounded fine.

“I hate to disappoint you,” he said, “but you don’t have the flu. You have raging pharyngitis and an upper respiratory infection. If you don’t start on this new heavy duty antibiotic now, you will be mighty sick very quickly.”

Apparently this wonder drug, Spectracef, which is the size of a horse pill, is the only thing working against this bacterial infection. It costs so much, even with insurance, they gave me a $55 coupon. The bill for the drug at Walgreens, after the cheap-o insurance my ex-employer got this year, and after the coupon, was $123. The pharmacy assistant even paged me at Walgreens to be sure it was ok that it cost so much. Hell yeah! I guess poor people can’t afford to be sick.

I also have to take aspirin to keep my fever down. And Benedryl to rest.

“No offense,” Dr. K. said, “but you look terrible. I know this isn’t the way you usually look, so I want you in bed for the next three days. Benadryl will help keep you there.”

Geez. I thought I looked pretty good. I’d washed my hair and it was a great hair day.

So here I am, in bed.

With Riley, who is mostly on a hunger strike. He won’t touch anything that looks or tastes like dog food, even the most delicious. Stuff that I might even eat. Now he’s been carrying his chicken and cheese plate and presenting it to me to refill. I haven’t budged. It just appeared on the bed and he presented his face right up against mine in case I missed it.

Riley gets away with this things because he’s adorable, says Auntie Hel, and it’s true.

So a few things before I go over and out:

1. I can’t think of a better person than FLH to grow old with. He makes me take care of myself. Unlike the man I was with who wouldn’t get up and take me to hospital when I had a 104 degree fever and pneumonia. Or the other one who’d say “gee, I don’t know, baby,” if I asked if I needed to be seen. And he should’ve known.

So kudos to FLH, who is amazing in so many ways, including this important way.

2. Thank you Auntie Helen, who lives down the street and is checking in periodically, despite her sick dog and migraines. Not to mention her busy job. Kudos to her!

And on that note, I’m off to rest.