It started with being tired and a little run-down. And not to get too graphic here, my lady-part had a twinge/tickle in it (and not the good kind) that caused me to fear something was a-brewing down there. That was Friday.
***WARNING! WARNING!*** IF YOU ARE SQUEEMISH TO STORIES ABOUT LADY-PARTS INFECTIONS AND ALL THAT GOES WITH IT, IT’S TIME FOR YOU TO STOP READING. THIS IS WHERE GRAPHIC BEGINS.
I knew you were a sick fuck. Keep reading then. You were warned.
By Saturday, all hell had broken loose. They twinge turned into something only a stiff bottle brush could cure…that or my favorite remedy from the doctor – the little pink pill called Diflucan. Only thing--my doctor’s office doesn’t take prescription requests on weekends, so I was forced to either suffer, or go to the drugstore and plunk down $20+ on some cream that says it’s going to work in “1 day” but never does. And also be forced to lay vertical for the 15 hours following insertion, otherwise due to gravity, my $20 cream ends up outside of the places it’s meant to be, and therefore not killing the infection it’s supposed to kill.
Sunday, I end up at Urgent Care because besides my lady-parts issue, I have some other shit going on that has given me a fever of 102 degrees and body aches, and coughing, and sneezing, and runny/stuffy nose and all that good stuff.
I get prescribed some antibiotics (which is the lady-parts worst enemy in its current delicate condition, because for some reason…antibiotics cause the yeast to become overgrown and all hell breaks loose again, and therefore, all my hard work thus far would have been for naught.). I decide to get wise and ask the doctor at Urgent Care for some Diflucan because “antibiotics give me yeast infections”. I didn’t feel like admitting my current condition because she was not on a need-to-know-basis as far as I was concerned.
My diagnosis comes back – upper respiratory infection. I get my antibiotics, along with 3 other prescriptions, but notice the one for Diflucan is only for ONE PILL. WHAT THE HELL. This just isn’t going to do it. This doctor acts like its from her own personal supply, and she’s hoarding Diflucan like Elaine on Seinfeld hoarded sponges. This isn’t going to work at all. Especially since my antibiotics are for 5 days. But since it’s Sunday, I decide I will call my regular OBGYN tomorrow because he always dispenses meds with a gentle heart and a heavy hand. He’ll fix me up. I know it.
My doctor, bless his heart, gives me a prescription for 3 Diflucan pills, to be taken one every-other day. PLUS THERE’S A REFILL! See, told you he was an angel. But in my weakened condition, I’ve been taking one pill per day to keep the bottle-brush feeling from coming back. Literally. I’ve fantasized about tearing and shredding my insides with a bottle-brush – but haven’t. For obvious reasons. Like the terrorists they are, I was not going to let the yeast win in that way. I would kill it in a surprise attack of Diflucans, because its already expecting that overpriced-over-the-counter-cream-that-never-works and makes me feel like I’m walking around with blobs of Vaseline stuffed in my panties. It will never see the Diflucan coming from the OTHER end of my body! HA!
Yes, not pretty. Not pretty at all. Especially, when you’re the type of person who prides herself on having pretty lady parts at all times. You never know when you’re going to die in some horrific car accident and some emergency worker is going to see your lady parts in all its glory. At least I hope for you it IS in its glory. Because if mine is not, and if I wasn’t dead already, I know I would die all over again. I want to look at the carnage down from heaven and be proud that I practiced personal hygiene like it was a religion.
Today, I’m still a bit sick. And the twinge in my lady parts is damn near gone (yeast is a fool if it thinks I am going to get the bottle brush…because that’s what it wants! It wants me to cave and give in to the pain…ohhh, but I’m stronger than it. And so is the Diflucan).
OK, I think you’ve suffered enough hearing about my bodily functions and issues. First, last week I expose you to farting, and now this! I hope this isn’t a trend. Even though I think bathroom humor is the best form of humor. And hopefully, you do to (or at least just for today.)