101

I have been flirting with 101 degrees since Friday night. Flirt, flirt. The pain in my shoulders is steadily increasing.

We deigned to grace the Wound Care Center with our sniveling presence this morning -- and boohooed through the entire appointment.

It was mortifying.

Bless Brandi's heart (remember, please, that we call her Brandi because that is her name!). What do you do with such a patient and no doctor in the clinic? Why, you threaten to call the ID doctor, the orthopedic surgeon, *and* the Boutiqueur -- unless the weeping dipwad of a dingbat patient promises to call someone as soon as she gets home.

Which she does.

It was my first call to the Boutiqueur since his move to the new office, with the new setup, with the guarantee of being able to reach him "24/7" -- an expression that I have never been fond of.

I got the same answer that I would have received a month ago -- back in the old effed-up office, before the Grand Guarantees: "He's with patients. Can I take a message and have him or the nurse call you back?"

That, my friends, is an oldie but a goodie. I am timing him.

[Granted, I am very confused as to what he could possibly do for me. What is it about 101 that makes it a differentiating marker of some sort? What? Blood cultures? Like hell am I getting back into that damn car. I cried the whole way home and screamed during the transfer to my chair. There had best be a promise of an answer... Zut. I hate myself when I get this sick. There is this guilt that takes over -- and even without decades of therapy, I know where it comes from. The evil stepmother -- just joshing! She really is swell and I love her lots -- but everytime any of us got sick, she got mad at us. I will never forget trying to hide the fact that I had pneumonia, out of pure trepidation. She caught on when I collapsed and coughed up a lung... and she said: "What did you have to go and do that for?" You see, we were about to go on vacation to Japan... We still went. I spent most of the time in the hotel room. Hmmm. I'll clue you in on something else -- I babble when over 101. Tears, babbling, and guilt -- I have hit the trifecta.]


Edit -- and not even five minutes after publishing this! Total embarrassment. Maybe there is something to this concierge medicine after all. Boutiqueurs nurse just called -- she is the greatest. What did I do? You get three guesses. Right! I burst into tears. She is all fired up now... and the orthopedic surgeon -- who completely blew me off last week -- is about to get hit by incoming... Bless everyone's bones. I really am grateful. I really am.