Yesterday, after three days dilly-dally-dithering, I finally went to the doctor to see about my fortnight of sore throatyness that these past few days has become swallow-ow!-swallow-ow! with a bunch of zzzzzzzzzz (stagger, stagger) zzzzzzzzzzz.
"Hooray!", we must cheer (we who sometimes get burny/itchy side effects from antibiotics), for it doesn't seem to be bacterial. Strep test negative.
"It's probably just mono," said the doctor. "You probably had mono at some point and..." and I don't really remember the rest because I was too busy exclaiming, "Why, YES, I did have give up a YEAR of my life to mono in my twenties!" and other "Whoa! Whoa!" remarks.
If I'd been more on my game I would've asked why I'm (probably - we didn't bother with the proper blood test) having a mono outbreak now, nearly 20 years later - like, am I more run down than usual or something? - but casual, imprecise, absolutely non-scientific chats with Uncle Google have led me to just shrug. These things happen.
On the plus side, all of my vitals were good and apparently I've lost 10 pounds since I last visited this doc, when I had "walking pneumonia" over a year ago. "Good job," said the nurse. "Keep up what you're doing." Um, sitting on the sofa all day, dividing my time between genealogy and Facebook and the next bread-and-cheese snack, except for when we go out to eat or dive into monster blue-raspberry Icees at the movies? Sounds like an untapped book deal to me...
Then today, IT arrived:
Oh. Wait. I have certified gunky mouth. Should I be taking this test? What if the results come back like below?
So I called Utah and was reassured that as long as I didn't take any medicine during the 30-minute "no food or drink" window before the drool event commenced, I'd be fine.
Ah, the drool event. At first I didn't notice because I was all, ooo, it's like a snazzy Netflix thingie:
But then I looked at the instructions:
Wait, I thought this was a cheek scraping dealybob? With a sort of toothbrush-a-ma-jig and you scrape-scrape-scrape on cheek, wait a few hours, then scrape-scrape-scrape the other cheek?
But I guess that's those other companies, because for Ancestry we must drool for 2-5 minutes using this fancy equipment:
And here's the other side, with the circle around the part that says storage is supposed to take place within 15-30 C.
Um, this thing has been sitting in my mailbox for a day. In Las Vegas. Where we started welcoming a daily average of 40 C last month. Is this even going to work?
The circle looks kind of like my mouth is about to, for it's time to get drooling.
I volunteered Mike to be my spotter since I couldn't see the fill line as I salivated and didn't want to overfill. (THAT'S HOT.)
(Here's where I was going to put a video sharing his thoughts on the matter, but then I decided just to share it on Facebook. If this were a brand-creating, monetizing-happy blog, FB would be the bonus content... and by "bonus" I mean like when you used to buy a DVD and the "special features" would include the regular audio track... and the audio track in Dolby 5.1. That said, I always find my husband amusing, so perhaps the video will find its way here when I'm less lazy.)
Update: I joined Vimeo, finally. The video will be done processing and appear below in about an hourish. (I don't know why I didn't want to put it on YouTube, even with comments off. Or Flickr. I could've just put it on Flickr. Duh.)
P.S. My voice has become increasingly nasal/flat over the years, especially when not speaking at long, relaxed lengths, but it's even more so here because of the tonsillitis. I won't say "don't judge" because I'm totally judging myself. I used to be known for a nice speaking voice so I don't know what happened other than it's been happening for several years and I haven't bothered to stop it. (I suspect it's a combo of Midwestern roots followed by living in Texas for yonks all muddied together, then sprinkled with fistfuls of hesitance and cynicism, and smoothed over with a monotone that hints at my deadened emotions... not that I've given this a lot of thought, or anything. Cough.)
Update Again: Here he be...
And if you missed it at the end of the clip, here Mike is, holding the result. With pride, I like to think.
We stopped at the post office on the way to dinner. My spit-tube is on its way to the lab!