If you are one of my many devoted readers (Hi, five sorority sisters, three fellow study abroad students, and two family members who read my blog)!, you may have been wondering about my recent hiatus in posting. The above title may lead you to believe that this was because I had become one of the 1300 New Yorkers who had contracted the H1N1 virus. Spoiler Alert: I didn't have swine flu...but I might have.
Last Tuesday night, I went to sleep with a le miserable fever, and woke up feeling even more like le crap. This brought about a huge milestone in my life--my first visit to an adult physician! I had been moderately sick when I first came home from Denmark, but refused to seek treatment because Margarita refused to get me an appointment with anyone other than my pediatrician. Don't get me wrong--I love my pediatrician. He looks exactly like Vladimir Putin, if Putin's mother had hugged him more as a child and he spent his days surrounded by cuddly Russian children rather than fellow chain smoking politicians. The walls of his office are covered with pictures drawn by said cuddly Russian children and depict all sorts of land/sea creatures frolicking in the land of wellness. He gives me lollipops after shots AND blood tests, and sometimes even when I have come in for nothing but a checkup and a chat. He knows my medical history and has an entire file dedicated to my steady and quick increase in weight (not quite as steady and quick in height, we've found) and vaccinations and illnesses and etc. But these wonders aside--his secretaries are mean and wear overly tight Juicy jumpsuits, and when I call to make an appointment, they always make snide comments about the older Bogo sister still going here, and make a point of asking if I am still a full time student and on my parents insurance and applicable for a pediatrician. Last time I was in the office, a girl who looked my age walked in and my heart jumped with joy...until her husband walked in behind her with their infant child.
The possibly-teenage mother at my pediatrician's office was really the final straw, so on Wednesday afternoon, I found myself feverish and in a waiting room with bare walls unadorned with pictures of/by Ruski snugglers and boring awful magazines like Men's Health and Women's Wellness rather than TIME kids and Highlights and (most importantly) Teen Vogue. My adult physician was moderately interested in my illness and much less awkward to describe my sexual history and alcohol and cigarette use to than Dr.V had been, and after taking my temperature and other vital measures, drew blood without giving me a lollipop or a pretty bandaid, gave me a prescription for TamiFlu and instructions not to interact with other humans until my blood results were back because I may or may not have contracted the H1N1 virus. See you tomorrow!
I promptly hurried home to Google and WebMD everything I could about swine flu. It would be just my luck to have it, since I made fun of everyone in white masks a few months ago and make a point of telling people I don't believe in swine flu and don't understand what the big deal is--it's just the flu.
36 hours and no non-familial human contact later...I don't have swine flu! It's just regular flu. Oops.
Nonetheless, the flu sucks, especially as a week-in vegetarian because you can't have chicken noodle soup. But I am now all-strains-of-flu free and officially have an adult doctor! Yay for the former, meh for the latter.
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