Come home, out of the fog.

I told Jeff on the way home today that it felt like Tuesday. Most of this week vanished in a combination of sleep and fever. But I have answers now.

Jeff wasn't able to go in to work at his usual time this morning; the truck just wasn't able to make it up the ice-covered hills this morning. So he came home to me sitting in my overly-plush terry bathrobe. We talked. I mentioned that I wasn't sure if I'd be able to make it to the doctor's office because of the ice.

He offered to check my throat to see if he could see anything. In retrospect, it bothers me that neither of us thought to do this sooner. After a couple of mishaps and me nearly gagging on a soup spoon, Jeff says, essentially, "What are these white spots on the back of your throat?"

I call the doctor's office, explain my situation, request that we do a phone consult as soon as the nurse practitioner gets in. She calls back a couple of hours later and asks my symptoms. She interrupts me halfway through and asks if we've checked my throat. Yes, I say, and there are these white spots…

She chuckles. "Congratulations. A nice case of strep throat. I don't need to see you to know that. I'll phone in a prescription for antibiotics if you can get to the pharmacy to pick them up."

We can, and do. Jeff needs the car to go to work, so we agree to take me to the wondergeeks' apartment so that I can stay with other people and have access to a vehicle that can traverse the icy roads, in case I need something.

I go there. I have soup. I chat for a little while and read three pages of a book. I find a warm blanket and curl up under it. Nearly four hours later, I wake up.

That's been my week—missing hours and portions of days. It was difficult to wake up after that nap. But the fog around my head finally feels like it's beginning to lift. I haven't bothered to check my temperature this evening—because my lack of dizziness and headache tells me that if I have an elevated temp, it's a minimal one.

Tomorrow I go back to work. Time to get back to life and see what's been going on without me.