The Strep(t) Man Cometh

For the last couple of weeks, I've felt as though a big piece of popcorn was stuck in the back of my throat.  Seeing as I had popcorn right around the time this started up, I kept gargling in an attempt to loosen the little sucker from his evil grips.  Nothing seemed to work, so yesterday morning, I decided to go in.

I got the two older boys off to school and set up a mining operation in the bathroom with a flashlight and spoon.  But one quick look into my throat proved my earlier assumptions incorrect.  This was no popcorn.  This was strep.  I recognized the big white pulsating pockets instantly.

Strep and I have a very on-again, off-again relationship.  Strep is the reason I still don't know all my cursive letters because it was my BFF in 3rd grade - keeping me out of school repeatedly.  Strep went with me to London and Ireland.  Traveling with my friend the doctor, I thought she would be able to instantly diagnose and treat me.  Our conversations went along the lines of:

Me: "I think I have strept."

Dr. Friend:  "Have some Sudafed."

Me:  "My strept is really bad today."

Dr. Friend:  "We're going to the Guinness factory.  A beer will make you feel better."

Me: "This strept is going to kill me."

Dr. Friend:  "It's not going to kill you, and for the love of God, it's STREP...not 'strept.'  There's no 't.'"

Me:  "You think you could have mentioned that three days ago?"

Dr. Friend:  "It was funny then.  Now you're just annoying."


If strep was Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, then I would be Kansas.  There's no place like home.

So I marched off to the nearest Prompt Care for my antibiotics.  The doc-in-the-box there gave me the strep test (positive) and had an interesting suggestion.  He said I had a bunch of "colonies" of strep that needed to be scraped out.  He suggested my husband for the deed.

After entertaining the very non-romantic image of my hubby scraping out  the back of my throat, I got an even bigger laugh from the "colony" description.  Were these little strep colonists seeking religious freedom in my throat?  Were they wearing little pilgrim hats and making turkey in there?  Did they come over on the Strep-Flower?  I got the giggles.  The doctor thought I was on something.

On my way out of Prompt Care, the doctor handed Joey an opened blue freeze pop.  Now that was just mean.  Give poor strep mom a big, blue sticky mess to deal with on the ride home.  

So I'm feeling a little better today while enjoying the final hours of my imperial reign.  It's not always good to be queen.