Nursing school, thus far, is Hell. Last week sucked, but after examining next week's schedule, I was thrown into an all-out panic. Clinical rotations begin on Monday, gasp! I've got unit exams each day---scheduled around the seven-hour lectures, of course. And a rough draft for the research paper we were assigned only days ago? Due on Friday.
I was eager for this weekend. A time to catch up on sleep, chill out with a Margarita, and allow my mind a break from Pharmacology I. (So, yeah, maybe I should use my weekends to study and catch up on assignments, too. But c'mon, let's be realistic.)
Whatever. My body had other plans.
I'm nearly positive I have a throat infection. And I can say this, I can self-diagnosis because I've had approximately 12,842,687,012 cases in my twenty-four years. No, really, I have. And I refuse to make a doctor's appointment. For one thing, they'd have to "work me in" midday, so I'd be forced to miss class---and seriously, missing class is something you just don't do. If you've suffered a massive heart attack, let's say, you'd better hope it happens early enough that you're still able to make it to class by 8AM. It's hardcore, yo. Oh, and yeah, the other reason I won't see my doctor. I already know what he'll say: "You already know what I'm going to say: We need to remove your tonsils." No, thanks. There will be no slicing or dicing.
Instead, I'm doping on Benadryl (which reminds me, it's high time for another dose). I'm popping ibuprofen left-and-right to lessen the pain just enough that I can manage a few bites of mashed potatoes without their feeling something like shards of glass. And, yeah, the salt water concoctions I dreaded as a kid. (I'll never be able to forget my mom's incessant "Gargle your throat. Have you gargled your throat?") Yuck. I'd almost sooner keep the infection than risk ingesting that warm, salty water. And, even worse, tilting your head too far back mid-gargle, can cause salt-water-in-the-nose, and that shit burns. Still, I'm trying it, the gargles. Every few hours, I'm gargling. I'm all about this self-medication thing, determined to be well by Monday.
I was eager for this weekend. A time to catch up on sleep, chill out with a Margarita, and allow my mind a break from Pharmacology I. (So, yeah, maybe I should use my weekends to study and catch up on assignments, too. But c'mon, let's be realistic.)
Whatever. My body had other plans.
I'm nearly positive I have a throat infection. And I can say this, I can self-diagnosis because I've had approximately 12,842,687,012 cases in my twenty-four years. No, really, I have. And I refuse to make a doctor's appointment. For one thing, they'd have to "work me in" midday, so I'd be forced to miss class---and seriously, missing class is something you just don't do. If you've suffered a massive heart attack, let's say, you'd better hope it happens early enough that you're still able to make it to class by 8AM. It's hardcore, yo. Oh, and yeah, the other reason I won't see my doctor. I already know what he'll say: "You already know what I'm going to say: We need to remove your tonsils." No, thanks. There will be no slicing or dicing.
Instead, I'm doping on Benadryl (which reminds me, it's high time for another dose). I'm popping ibuprofen left-and-right to lessen the pain just enough that I can manage a few bites of mashed potatoes without their feeling something like shards of glass. And, yeah, the salt water concoctions I dreaded as a kid. (I'll never be able to forget my mom's incessant "Gargle your throat. Have you gargled your throat?") Yuck. I'd almost sooner keep the infection than risk ingesting that warm, salty water. And, even worse, tilting your head too far back mid-gargle, can cause salt-water-in-the-nose, and that shit burns. Still, I'm trying it, the gargles. Every few hours, I'm gargling. I'm all about this self-medication thing, determined to be well by Monday.
1 comment:
I hope your throat feels better!!
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