Four degrees of fever despite 800 mg of ibuprofen and 650 mg of Tylenol. The back of my throat hurts like hell--so bad that the doctor gave me a lidocaine solution to gargle with. (Of course, the lidocaine solution makes me heave, literally, whenever I try to use it.) I can barely eat anything. When I cough, it feels like my throat is tearing apart. And I'm not going to talk about the mucus rainbow.
How bad would it have been if I hadn't started on antibiotics right away? Would I even be alive now? Or would I just be in the hospital, wishing I were dead?
I knew it was serious when I got the fever. I usually don't get feverish, and my normal operating temperature is 97.6° F anyway. But last night when I saw the thermometer registering 101.8°F I was about ready to call an ambulance. For me, that is 4.2°F of fever and I was really starting to worry about a febrile seizure.
Whatever it is I've got, clearly it's something my immune system has never dealt with before. I just hope it's not contagious, because I don't want anyone else to get this.
My fiancee had tonsillitis when I got to the Philippines, and I figure I got what she had when we smooched--but it must be something her immune system is used to that mine isn't, because O God do I feel wretched.
I've been sucking down 44 oz Mountain Dew slurpees from the Speedway station to keep hydrated--the frozen concoction goes a long way towards soothing the pain in my throat--and eating hard boiled eggs and instant ramen when I felt hungry, which hasn't been that often. In fact, I need some food soon; the last time I ate was early this morning, something like 18 hours ago.
I guess, if nothing else, this'll be good for losing me some weight. I hope so. Something good damn well ought to come of a sinister illness like this.