I’m not dead yet, but don’t get your hopes up!
For the record, I do not have strep. We know this because:
A) I don’t get strep,* and
B) There was no positive strep culture.**
So I am fighting for my life against something, we know not what, and am armed only with antibiotics and otter pops. But not regulation otter pops, because Husband found that they sell these two-foot long versions and of course he had to get those even though they took three days to freeze properly.
And that’s about it for my life update: I’m subsisting on a diet of ice cream and mashed potatoes (I am not complaining, y’all) and missing out on my friend’s birthday party (okay, complaining about that) and this wonderful man is trying so hard to do nice things for me but he keeps getting it just slightly wrong.
HIM: (hands me bowl of ice cream) I don’t know if you appreciate it, but when I bring you ice cream I don’t just put it in a bowl; I chill the bowl so the ice cream doesn’t start melting right away.
ME: (regards frosty bowl of not-yet-melty ice cream, sets it aside) You’re right, I don’t appreciate it.
ME: I like my ice cream slightly melty.
HIM: Do you have any idea how much extra work—
ME: I do. Which is why I’m telling you that the first thing you said is correct; I don’t appreciate it.
HIM: I rush it down to you—
ME: Yup. And then I (nudges bowl slightly) set it aside and wait for it to melt a bit.
HIM: Well I just assumed you’d want it… normal!
ME: (shakes head) My hands are too cold; Ice cream won’t melt while I’m holding it. Especially if someone’s gone and chilled the bowl first.
* This is my Official Position on the subject; there was a press release and everything. I settled on it years ago, after yet another negative strep culture, when I finally decided to just never go through the process of letting innocent nurses spoil half a dozen swabs while attempting to bypass my natural “you haven’t even tried foreplay yet” bite reflex. I am a terrible patient.
** This may have something to do with the fact that I didn’t actually do a throat culture, mostly because I don’t like them. My doctor said even if it came back negative he’d still give me antibiotics because something was going on in there. Which seemed a little irresponsible to me until Husband talked to a friend of ours (who is a nurse, which means she knows this stuff and is more inclined to explain to patients) and learned that the rapid-strep tests are terrible at actually ruling it out—false negatives occur so often that any negative can be safely ignored, so they’re really only good for torturing children who fake a sore throat to get out of school. Not that I’m anti-torturing children, but… let’s not shove things down my throat unless I’ve offered, okay?