Friends, I just want you to know that in olden times, before there was penicillin, viral pink eye would have killed you. I was too sick to blog last night. I called my doctor at the breaking point, and he called me in some antibiotics and new eye drops which seemed to finally make a difference. Yesterday and last night, I laid around, burst into tears on the phone with my mom and watched A LIFETIME MOVIE. It was about spring break and trying to fit in and still be yourself, and it was so hackneyed and low, but there was no other mindless backdrop for my suffering.
Apparently, and I apologize for even getting into this, viral pink eye needs a certain type of eyedrop, which my son and husband had. I had an eye ointment that is better for bacterial pink eye and long story short it all turned into one big infection that needed antibiotics. (I actually typed a whole paper's worth of information about ocular and nasal cavities and how and where they are joined, various levels of sinus drainage, tonsil spots, and gargling with hot salt water. I then backspaced for about ten minutes all the while scolding myself about how I sounded like the awful invalid you get stuck talking to at a family reunion holding a paper plate of truly terrible food and hearing about cysts and coughs and revolting things that happen to one's feet.)
I know better, BUT when your life is no more interesting than your illness, which mine has not been, there are not many topics to choose from. Anyway, today I actually felt reasonably well and ate a full dinner of steak and asparagus. My husband went straight out and got me a huge yogurt from Yogurt World. I felt well enough to lay in bed and read an entire Vogue from cover to cover, except for one article that was rather creepy, though it is not for me should to judge the artistes at Vogue.
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