Well, I for one started out my 4th of July holiday weekend with a bang. Unfortunately, of the non-sexual variety.

I had been having a really bad burning sensation in my throat for a couple of days that I was assuming must be acid reflux. Not that I’ve ever been diagnosed with acid reflux but the symptom made sense to my hypochondriac-style self-diagnosis. I danced at myNightclub from Friday night into the wee hours of Saturday morning and didn’t get to bed until around 4:00 a.m. I was subsequently delighted to be woken up around 9:00 a.m. by the dulcet tones of two young boys playing in the swimming pool. Accompanied and somewhat overridden by the frantic yapping and squealing of a small black poodle. After about 30 minutes of not being able to get back to sleep I dressed and went out to the pool. I politely informed the non-tenant woman accompanying said children and canine that I would really like to accomplish more than three hours of sleep. She politely informed me that the dog was merely reacting with excitement to the boys rough-play. I politely pointed out the very large sign two feet away from her that says in six-inch high letters NO PETS PERMITTED. “Oh,” she said, “I thought that meant they just weren’t allowed in the water!” She then ordered the kids out of the pool for the two minutes that it would take her to return the dog to the tenant with whom she was staying. I went back to bed and after a mere 90 mins or so I was able to get back to a throat-pain-interrupted sleep.

I awoke some two hours or so later feeling as though a firework had gone off in my throat. I staggered out of bed and painfully swallowed some antacids. I went back to bed and dozed fitfully due to the continued burning in my throat. I finally awoke completely with my palms red and itching badly, and my throat burning and closing up. When I passed by the bathroom mirror I was astonished to see huge red blotchy marks on both sides of my neck. My neck was also *visibly* swollen. Breathing was already becoming a bit of an issue and the look of my neck didn’t help my attempt at staying calm.

At the beginning of this year my health insurance plan changed from a half-arsed PPO to a fully-arsed HMO with high deductibles and low coverage. I had not had any reason to make note of which hospital emergency room I was permitted to use. Lesson learned: look these things up whether or not you need to know right then. Otherwise you might find yourself on a Saturday frantically calling your insurance provider to find out where you are supposed to go for emergency treatment only to find out that the insurance company is closed on the weekends. Your doctor’s office is also closed. I went to the insurance company’s website and after 2,038 clicks I found the names of three “urgent care clinics”. Such clinics have a copay of approximately half that of an ER but can treat minor emergencies (is that an oxymoron?). I called each clinic in turn only to be informed that each “clinic” was, in fact, a doctor’s office and as such was closed for the weekend. Back I went through the entire clicking process to find a nearby hospital. My throat, in the meantime, continued to squeeze itself tighter. After five phone calls I reached a nearby ER and confirmed that they did, in fact, take my insurance. I shot out of the house, barely remembering to throw on clothing, and started driving as patiently as I could to the hospital. When I was within two blocks of the hospital I ran into a traffic jam caused by a railroad crossing barrier blocking the street. And no train in sight. Apparently, the existing traffic had been sitting there for a while because the driver of a Mercedes got out of his car and manually lifted the barrier so everybody else could merge from three lanes into one and drive through. Miracles *do* happen.

I cannot say enough good things about the ER staff at the Twelve Oaks Hospital here in Houston. The lady I spoke with on the phone had asked for my name. She had all of my registration paperwork ready for me to sign as soon as I staggered in, red in the face and panting. The wait was minimal, the nurse was gentle and sympathetic. The doctor was funny. No, I assured him, I had not been engaging in auto-erotic asphyxiation. Nor had I been making out with a teenager so, no, those were not hickeys on my neck. As far as I was aware, no, I had not caused anybody to attempt to choke the living daylights out of me.

It turned out that I was having a massive allergic reaction to something. I still cannot think of anything or anyone that could have caused such an acute reaction. Not that there is anything cute about looking like I’ve had somebody sucking on my neck. It’s also possible I may have (additionally) been bitten by some species of insect while engaging in friendly banter at the pool.

Going into debt by $200 wasn’t all bad though. I now own a dahling little pale green plastic wrist-strap. It even has my name and age on it in case I forget either. Although, when I asked the nurse if it entitled me to alcoholic beverages like the paper straps they put on our wrists at myNightclub, she said no. In addition to the lesser but continued throat pain, either (or both) the steroids and antihistamines they gave me are doing a bang-up job of giving me the jitters.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to start thinking about how I want to celebrate our independence from the British Tyrants. Perhaps a stroll around the pool?

Current Mood: jittery

This entry was posted on Sunday, July 3rd, 2005 at 3:40 am and is filed under Humour. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.