My throat is evil. I suspected that I had strep when it started throbbing yesterday, but this morning it was beyond wrong. I had a fever and I was hurting. Ugh, but it was a volunteering morning. . . by the time I got to the shelter, I knew I was in trouble. I took attendance, assigned tasks, and then got out of there and headed into the city.
Turns out that there are two Duane Reade's in Mahattan with built-in walk-in clinics. What luck! I headed to the one on 49th and Broadway. I was anticipating a long wait--but the whole experience lasted less than 45 minutes from start to finish. The doctor had me say AAAAAAAAAH, looked in my throat, and said, "Ack! I don't even need to run the test--you've got strep." Swell. I filled my prescription for penicillin at the pharmacy, just steps away from the clinic. Done. It was nearing noon and I hadn't eaten all day, so I stopped by Jamba Juice. Ooooh. Finally a teensy bit of throat improvement.
And then. . . the rest of the day I slept. And slept. And sometimes I woke up long enough for orange juice or chicken soup. I was supposed to have a date tonight. . . obviously, no dice.
Oh Saturday.