Pneumonia Strikes

So I have come up with the #1 rule of living in the Bush: DON’T GET SICK! Simple as that.

Turns out I have pneumonia. Joy. So far, I haven’t found the humor in it—-but I’m still looking.

They gave me a peanut butter shot—-some A-bomb of antibiotics. It hurt like crazy. In fact, before he gave me the shot, he asked me if I have ever fainted. He said the shot is so painful it sometimes makes people faint. Now there’s a comment to instill confidence. The aide is a really nice guy—-name of Paul.

Paul phoned the doctor on call (in Bethel), and they wanted to fly me out to the hospital tonight, but there were no more flights tonight. So they gave me the peanut butter shot, put me on antibiotics, and let me go home until morning with strict instructions to drink lots of fluids. If I haven’t improved drastically, they will fly me out in the morning. I am hoping for a miraculous recovery so that I don’t have to leave Taco. (But just in case, we’ve made arrangements for him to stay with another couple until we get back. I would go by myself, but last time I went to a hospital by myself, I almost died because of shoddy care--literally. So we don’t want to make that mistake again.)

My biggest gripe about all this (other than being so sick and possibly having to leave Taco while I fly in to the hospital) is that I can’t go the Potlatch tonight. I feel like the only kid in town to miss out on the local hoedown. It stinks. And I wanted to be there for my friend Stephanie. She puts so much work into these things.

So meanwhile, I have a super sore butt (that shot was a killer—although I am proud to announce that I did NOT faint); I feel like I’m breathing through a straw; I ache from head to toe; my head feels like it’s split open; I have a horrific cough. And there is a rabid fox in town.

I know there is some humor in here somewhere. I just need to find it.