On the Subject of Subject

I can't help but think this year is supposed to be one of extremes--of pushing myself way outside the lines that had been drawn around me. But apparently it's also the year of me being sick.

Can you fucking believe it?

I woke up Monday AM and felt disgusting--lethargic, congested, scratchy throat. I looked at myself in the mirror (something I don't do a lot of I admit), and I looked just thrashed. How the hell did that happen in 8 hours? I felt fine on Sat. night watching "Flowers in the Attic" and "Hercules in New York" (though, admittedly, both movies would make anyone feel sick, I suppose).

I gave it a day and today I woke up the same way. "Fuck this," I thought. "I am getting my ass some drugs."

So I call Kaiser and my doctor is unavailable, but I can easily get in to see another if I like.

"Please," I tell the woman on the phone.

"OK, well Dr. ------ is available at 3:10 p.m."

"Excuse me? What was his name?"

She repeats it.

"I'm sorry. I know I am not feeling well, but can you spell it for me?" I hate to say it, but I thought maybe her accent was just making me unable to understand.

"Of course. It's S-u-b-j-e-c-t."

"Dr. Subject." I say it and don't quite believe I am saying it.

"That's correct."

"Really?" I ask.

She doesn't laugh. "Yes."

"OK, Dr. Subject it is."

I thought of how this would be the perfect name for a study aid at Sylvan Learning Center, or the character to whom you can ask any question in a Sex Ed class without shame.

By the time I made it to the office, I was feeling worse. My sinuses killing me, my throat raw. I knew I had a sinus infection, and began to suspect I've had it all along.

Dr. Subject was totally normal looking. Maybe a tad short. Sensible black shoes. A nice way of asking questions. But then he pointed that weird light instrument up my nose and all he said was "Oh, my."

Bingo.

He asked me if I had sinus pressure, but I am never really sure what's out of the ordinary since I have allergies and my life is spent oscillating between more congested and less congested. The whole "pressure" question means nothing to me at this point.

"Tell me, Dr. Subject..." I wanted to begin, but couldn't will myself to do it.

Instead I just said, "So, this is something I've possibly had all along, isn't it?"

"Possibly. Why didn't you come in before?"

Well, good question, Dr. Subject. I don't know. Because I'd have nothing to complain about on my blog? I had no answer.

But here I am 6 hours later starting a 10-day course of a hefty dose of antibiotics, armed with nasal spray, Sudafed, and Claritin. I'm going to decongest everyone and everything within a 5-mile radius at this point.

I can't wait to have my energy back. The stomach ache from the Amoxicilin will be worth it.