I think I’d rather be dead.

Looking for a distraction from my narrow Saturday night escape, Jeanna, Larisa, Vanessa and I met on Capitol Hill Sunday for some early Halloween costume shopping. My throat was still killing me, and after a few hours I was feeling faint and weak as well. Crap. I hate it when my body fails me. Determined to kick what I assumed to be a prolonged hangover combined with stress and lack of sleep, I went home and crawled into bed, where I remained for the rest of the day.

When I woke up later that evening drenched in a cold sweat, I knew something was still wrong. A temperature check showed that I may in fact be ill – 102 fever, not good. Panicked, I tried desperately to think. The next day was supposed to be the start of my last week at the Seattle Times. There was no way I could call in sick. They would never believe me – I’ve only called in one time in the two years that I’ve worked there, and that was because I was in the emergency room. Now all the sudden I am sick for my last week. Ironic.

The light of day was blinding and painful, and I stumbled, shivering, out of bed to close the curtains. A temp check showed that my fever had risen to 103. NO. I will not call in sick to work. I don’t call in sick. I went into the bathroom to shower… and sunk to my knees, which seemed unable to support me. Fuck. OK fine. It’s only Monday – a slow day of the week for my job. No one’s going to die if I call in sick, and who cares if they think I’m a liar, right? I left a voicemail for my boss and went back to bed.

Several hours later and throat feeling worse by the minute, I tried to check things out. Opening my mouth and looking in the mirror, I was greeted with the most disgusting sight I have seen in a long time. My swollen, red throat was COVERD with white spots!! Great. Strep throat, I thought with a sinking feeling. Contagious, and only cured by antibiotics. Crawling into some sweats and trying not to pass out – a process that took about 40 minutes – I headed down to my car and drove to a health clinic. A quick test and then the diagnosis: Step, just as I had suspected. I headed to Bartell’s to fill the prescription and called my boss with the news.

Since I’m allergic to penicillin, whenever I am in need of antibiotics doctors have to find me an alternative medication. In this case, it was erythromycin. I popped the first of the pills and went back to bed, expecting to be fully recovered in just a few short hours. Needless to say I was shocked when around 11 p.m. I awoke with horrific stomach pains. I won’t bother you with the details, but let’s just say that I spent the next 12 hours on my bathroom floor, wrapped around my toilet. In between bouts of being violently ill, all I could do was feel sorry for myself. As the tears ran down my face all I could think about was how alone I was. No one to take care of me – I could die there on my bathroom floor and my cat would probably eat off half my face before anyone noticed I was missing.

After calling in sick to work again, I immediately phoned the clinic and requested an alternate medication, which the doctor said she would call into the pharmacy. 7 hours and several phone calls later, I still had no medication. Frantic about missing work, weak from not eating but scared to put any food in my body, and still no closer to fighting off the bacteria that had invaded my body, I called the doctor’s office again. The blatant rudeness and disrespect the front desk bitch showed me was completely inexcusable. Never before has someone in the medical field treated me so discourteously. I had to throw a royal fit just to get a medication that I desperately needed. I guess this is why smart people have real doctors and don’t rely on clinics.

The worst part of this whole situation? The power was out at my apartment for the entire day! This meant no light, no heat, no internet and no television. I was able to watch one movie on my laptop before the battery died, but for the rest of the day I just lay on my couch bundled up like a ski bunny and stared off into space. I’ve never been so miserable.

FINALLY, I was able to get my new prescription filled with a drug that the pharmacist insisted is gentle on the stomach. Weak and about 6 pounds lighter, I was able to drag myself into work this morning. I hope and pray I don’t get sick like that again any time soon, although I did appreciate the crash diet.

I can only hope I passed on my sickness to a certain someone from last Saturday. God knows he deserves it, and that would be real karma, eh?