Feb. 08, 2003 ~ Like I need a hole in the head
Since August, I've had chronic sinus infections. Have had several rounds of antibiotics, each one stronger than the last, and they do help a little, but not completely. Since December I've been battling laryngitis, and that is a long time to be hoarse, particularly if one's job involves speaking in public. Friday morning I woke up barely able to speak, with a very painful throat. I called the doctor's office and they worked me in.
"It's probably the smoke from the fireplace," I said. Even though we have a fireplace insert (which is a little like a woodburning stove), the smoke still bothers us all. We cough and sniff all winter long. But our heat pump is on its way out, and we don't have $4000 for a new system, so we just cough and sniff and have headaches. Doc said that smoke bothered him, too, but not like this, and more was going on here.
He looked at the chart and reviewed the list of drugs we had tried, and started writing out prescriptions. He wanted to try a round of steroids, among other things.
"Oh, no. I HATE steroids! They make me sick as a dog."
Doc looked up at me, smiled, and pretended to write. "Patient uncoooperative," he said. And laughed.
He said we would hold off on the steroids this time, but I would need to take two weeks worth of the "big gun" drugs, and then come back for a recheck. If that didn't do it, we would try one more round of a different antibiotic, along with the steroids and a few other nasty drugs. If THAT didn't do it, it was time for a visit to the ear, nose and throat doctor, who would probably want to drill a couple of holes and let the sinuses drain.
'Scuse me?
"You're kidding, right?"
"Holes in your head," he said with a smile. "Oh, it's not like they're going to show. It's called "sinus windows." They drill from inside. A lot of patients get good relief from this."
I must have still looked skeptical, because he explained the process and then said, "Really. I'm serious."
You're with me on this one, right? It sounds gruesome to you, too?
So here's the plan. The nasty wonder drugs will do their trick. They'd better. Because the patient really WILL be uncooperative when it comes to having more holes drilled in her head!
That won't be happening. Count on it.
Husband got a letter from Soldier Boy yesterday. Can you see me smiling all the way from Texas? Because it's my job to pay the bills, I open just about any envelope with Husband's name on it, except for personal letters. But in this case I didn't think I could wait until he got home, so I called Husband at work and asked if he minded if I opened the letter. Of course he didn't. The letter was mailed nearly four weeks ago. Son said he had gotten a bunch of mail at once and was trying to answer everybody, so maybe there will be another letter from him in the next week or so. He was doing fine. He said he couldn't say anything about what he was doing, but that the Army was taking good care of them and the food was good.
Update: Another letter from Soldier Boy arrived today, this one addressed to me. It was written the same day as the one to his dad, and it was long and thoughtful. Who knew he could write two long letters in one day?
When I was first waiting for mail from Afghanistan to arrive, I reread all his letters to us from boot camp. Many of them focused on food. I mean, there were entire pages written about what foods he wanted to eat when he got out of Basic. Plus, he likes to cook, and is probably a better cook than I am. So in a recent letter, I asked him if he still spent a lot of time thinking about food, and what he would choose to eat, if he could have anything in the world. He wrote that they were feeding them so well there, and they could have as much as they wanted to eat or as much as they could take with them, so he didn't think so much about eating. He wasn't deprived. But his favorite meal... well... he said if he could have anything in the world that he wanted, it would be a home-cooked meal, of any type, with us.
I would give just about anything to have that, too.
From my letter of reply to him:
"Your ideal meal would be a home-cooked meal with us? That made me smile, seeing that. Believe me, Son, whatever you want, I�ll cook it. Um, unless it�s alive� like a lobster or crawdads or something really gross. Or deer. Or bear. Or beaver. Or rattlesnake. I�d probably rather not deal with alligator, either. But other than that, you name it, and I�ll fix it!"
Okay, so I'm not the perfect mother. Perfect mothers would cook crawdads.
He is definitely scheduled to go to Korea after Afghanistan, provided that world events do not change the Army's plans. I guess we will just continue to hope for the best.
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