Thursday NightI started to get sick Thursday night.
Standard stuff, really. Sinus drainage and a scratchy throat that got worse quickly. I couldn't go to sleep, at least not until about 3 a.m. Friday morning.
I decided that I better go see a doctor, just to make sure I didn't have anything that Eli 5.6 could catch.
Of course, at least in Austin, the one night you can't get sick is Thursday. Every family physician in this city seems to work half a day on Friday, and if you try to call for an appointment Friday morning, forget it--they're all full up. My doctor works half days on Wednesday, too, and they don't accept after hours calls for emergencies anymore, so basically he's my doctor three days a week. If I get sick on Monday, Tuesday, or Thursday, he's aces. Friday, though, was not one of those days.
Which is how I wound up at Johnny Skidrow's Minor Emergency Clinic and Bait Shop.
The lady measuring my vitals told me that the "normal" temperature was
98.9 °F. Of course, this was after four failed attempts at getting my blood pressure and oxygen levels, and after unplugging and replugging every cable repeatedly, she called in an expert, who proceeded to unplug and replug every cable repeatedly.
When the doctor walked in, I was mildly alarmed, since he made Doogie Howser look like Methuselah. He knew the most important thing about being a doctor, though: time is money. He said hello, and in less than two minutes he said goodbye. I think he made a dollar a second.
Two prescriptions later, I still don't feel much better yet, but I did get a free coupon for bait.