Woe.
Well. It appears that I have a (rather painful) kidney infection. Those to whom even that much is TMI probably don't want to click the cut tag.
Began having some weird back pain this morning, and by 3:00 pm, it had gotten to the point where I was seriously worried that Something Bad Was Going Down. Mr. Bill came and picked me up and one of my friends at work took up my place at the reception desk. Mr. Bill (who is a husband like unto no other husband, yea verily, and embodies all that is sweet, good and noble in this world) got me to the car, where he had my pillow, water-bottle and fuzzy fluffy fairy blanket waiting for me. Which is a good thing, because at this point, I was beginning to get well and truly freaked out by this sharp and unfamiliar pain in the right side of my back. Visions of surgical implements danced in my head, and I trembled at the very likely prospect of having to Get A Shot (I tremble at the thought that the person next to me might have to Get A Shot, or might have Gotten A Shot in the recent past, just to give you an idea of what my relationship with hypodermic needles is like).
At the urgent care center, a few tests were run (man, they have that urine sample process down to an art form these days, don't they?). While they were run I suggested to Mr. Bill that we never watch "Medical Mysteries" on the Discovery Health Channel ever again. In fact, that show should probably be canned. It is a bad show. *nods*
After ruling out kidney stones, the consensus was that I had a simple kidney infection and would need anti-biotics. But would it be enough to simply take them in pill form? Oh no. The anti-biotics in question must be piped into my bloodstream via a needle in my bum. Yeah. I was in enough pain at that point that having two nurses inject a little microscopic counter-offensive into my delicious curvature was actually the more attractive option available, so that's what they did. Mr. Bill got me my iPod and put Vaughn William's Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis in my ear and let me cry out the needle-nerves after the nurses left and we waited to see if I would swell up, turn purple, develop telekinetic powers or have any other form of allergic reaction to the anti-biotics.
When I complained that in addition to the piercing pain in my side I now felt like I had a bruise on my tuckas, Mr. Bill assured me that this was normal. I had just had a foreign body inserted into mine, after all, he said, and it hadn't even bothered to buy me dinner and drinks beforehand. He is a very bad man and a very good husband.
The ironic thing is that the doctor says that the most common cause of these infections is relieving one's bladder less frequently than necessary. Many of you have heard me brag about my trademarked NeverPee Receptionist Bladder(tm), but apparently it has proved to be my downfall. As green_tea_lady put it: "Look where your bladder of steel has gotten you!" Alas, a bladder of steel is no good if you have kidneys of cheesy tinfoil.
So now I am home, anti-biotics in pill form are forthcoming, I have a prescription for Tylenol with codeine, and have swaddled myself in healing penguin sweatshirt and socks. Motrin is holding off the forces of darkness until the Tylenol with codeine arrives. I have a pounding headache from all the weebling and sobbing I did this afternoon, but am otherwise just worn out. There is a distinct possibility that I won't be going in to work tomorrow, either because of the pain or because the codeine has left me without the ability to tie my shoes.
Began having some weird back pain this morning, and by 3:00 pm, it had gotten to the point where I was seriously worried that Something Bad Was Going Down. Mr. Bill came and picked me up and one of my friends at work took up my place at the reception desk. Mr. Bill (who is a husband like unto no other husband, yea verily, and embodies all that is sweet, good and noble in this world) got me to the car, where he had my pillow, water-bottle and fuzzy fluffy fairy blanket waiting for me. Which is a good thing, because at this point, I was beginning to get well and truly freaked out by this sharp and unfamiliar pain in the right side of my back. Visions of surgical implements danced in my head, and I trembled at the very likely prospect of having to Get A Shot (I tremble at the thought that the person next to me might have to Get A Shot, or might have Gotten A Shot in the recent past, just to give you an idea of what my relationship with hypodermic needles is like).
At the urgent care center, a few tests were run (man, they have that urine sample process down to an art form these days, don't they?). While they were run I suggested to Mr. Bill that we never watch "Medical Mysteries" on the Discovery Health Channel ever again. In fact, that show should probably be canned. It is a bad show. *nods*
After ruling out kidney stones, the consensus was that I had a simple kidney infection and would need anti-biotics. But would it be enough to simply take them in pill form? Oh no. The anti-biotics in question must be piped into my bloodstream via a needle in my bum. Yeah. I was in enough pain at that point that having two nurses inject a little microscopic counter-offensive into my delicious curvature was actually the more attractive option available, so that's what they did. Mr. Bill got me my iPod and put Vaughn William's Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis in my ear and let me cry out the needle-nerves after the nurses left and we waited to see if I would swell up, turn purple, develop telekinetic powers or have any other form of allergic reaction to the anti-biotics.
When I complained that in addition to the piercing pain in my side I now felt like I had a bruise on my tuckas, Mr. Bill assured me that this was normal. I had just had a foreign body inserted into mine, after all, he said, and it hadn't even bothered to buy me dinner and drinks beforehand. He is a very bad man and a very good husband.
The ironic thing is that the doctor says that the most common cause of these infections is relieving one's bladder less frequently than necessary. Many of you have heard me brag about my trademarked NeverPee Receptionist Bladder(tm), but apparently it has proved to be my downfall. As green_tea_lady put it: "Look where your bladder of steel has gotten you!" Alas, a bladder of steel is no good if you have kidneys of cheesy tinfoil.
So now I am home, anti-biotics in pill form are forthcoming, I have a prescription for Tylenol with codeine, and have swaddled myself in healing penguin sweatshirt and socks. Motrin is holding off the forces of darkness until the Tylenol with codeine arrives. I have a pounding headache from all the weebling and sobbing I did this afternoon, but am otherwise just worn out. There is a distinct possibility that I won't be going in to work tomorrow, either because of the pain or because the codeine has left me without the ability to tie my shoes.