Apparently I’ve volunteered for an unpaid medical research study.
This is kind of like donating your body to science, but while you’re still alive. This gives you the lucky bonus of being self-aware enough to recognize that those working on you are just as clueless as you are as to the cause of your illness.
I guess it’s kind of like being a detective. You take your clues (in my case, a 102° fever, tonsils slightly smaller than golf balls, throat gunk and soreness, dehydration, nausea and vomiting, and an aching everything), apply what you know (which, in some cases, wasn’t much), and pronounce a treatment.
And it was so much fun that I decided to take some PTO days from my honeymoon so that I could do it all again. And boy, what a good decision that was. Because who doesn’t love spending entire days prostrate before the toilet, watching the Olympics on the TV that your gracious fiance moved to the bathroom doorway to keep you company?
By the end of everything, I’ve had at least six nurses, five ask-a-nurse phone calls, four prescriptions, three physicians, three big-ass insurance bills, two urgent care visits, two blood tests, one hospital visit, one catheter, one IV, and zero diagnosis. But hey, if you’re cured, it doesn’t really matter what was wrong… Right?
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