mostly probably

So after talking to my mom yesterday, I decided that my swollen tongue and throat and neck and eyes and face was a freak allergic reaction to one of the medicines I was taking that I have taken 25,000 times before. I went to the store and got Benadryl. I took the recommended dose (plus maybe an extra sip) and zonked out. The problem–for the past few days every time I have managed to fall asleep, I have woken up every ten minutes when I try to swallow and the pain wakes me up.

So after sleeping for a record-breaing twenty minutes, I wake up and… what the… can’t breathe? That’s not normal. I’m usually able to do stuff like that. I call the clinic and, gasping for air, explain what’s happening. They tell me there’s a 2 hour wait and that if my throat is closed up I should go to the ER. I text my friend to see if he can come give me a blessing, which he does (THANK YOU!) and we drive down to the ER. My goal: To have health insurance the next time I go to the ER. At any rate, the diagnosis is I have strep. After two shots in my bum–one for penicillin and one steroid to make the swelling in my throat go away (the latter feeling akin to having chocolate chip cookie dough injected into my rear–comfort!), I’m on my way home.

And I don’t think I have to tell you what Papa Bear, the world’s most amazing manfriend ever, was doing during all of these shenanigans. Besides snuggling with me, sitting with me, holding my hand, running miscellaneous errands for me, going to my office to pick up work I can do from home, and hauling his precious little bottom from California back to Utah just so he could be available to do all of these things for me… he hasn’t really been much help at all.