Feeling like crap can make me more productive.
Went to the Emergency room last Friday night with vicious stabbing pain in the bones of the right side of my face. This was the gripping climax of a demonic sinus infection that's been putting me under the weather for the past 2 months.
I fled the Emergency room when I heard a baby cry. This was a place to patch up people in dangerous states. I felt unqualified.
Saturday morning found me in the Urgent Care clinic. Doctors there are professional diagnosticians. It was my hope one could give me a reasonable explanation for the bizarre sensation of the spreading of my maxilla from whatever the hell it's attached to with a mini jaws of life.
The doctor was fun. He was Sherlock Holmes with the questions and probing into the history of anything related to the pain: I first felt it after going skeet shooting. The right side of my face was hurting on the ride home. I told my companions of the likelihood of a tooth abscess - my best guess at the source of the pain. They ridiculed me saying I just had my face pressed against a blasting shotgun. The pain went away and didn't recur for 2 weeks. 3 days before the Emergency room event it reappeared - much stronger. And so on ... I have a history of sinus infections... got my right deviated sinus repaired during some cosmetic surgery 2 years ago...allegedly... but still manage to have chronic sinusitis.
The doctor tapped my face, but there was no reaction as would be if there was a sinus situation. Got an xray. I could see across the room the white triangle of pus to the right of my nose. Yuch! It was a sensational maxillary sinus infection.
Eight days so far on antibiotics and I still feel crappy. I want to jump out of my skin. I'm having existential quandaries because life isn't fun these days. Things have usually been nice for me, so I have underdeveloped coping skills. But I'm working on some now. I'm lifting weights and cleaning and doing all the things I hate to do because now they can't make me feel any worse. By the way, I hate to write. The unpleasantness of this task is eclipsed by chronic pain.
Some day I hope to return to comfort. On that lovely day, my house should be clean, tasks caught up, and a lot of thinking chronicled.
