Yesterday morning I woke up to a very painful lump in my armpit. What is this? I thought to myself. Probably just an irritation from shaving, I decided, and headed off to work. I got home in the early evening, anticipating a night of fun for St. Patty’s.
The Highway Guy was supposed to come over and I was going to make corned beef. We had texted a day or so before, and it was more pertinent that he work this weekend (being a broke college kid and all), and because he often part-timed as a bar-back, this was the prime weekend to make some money (understandable). I didn’t even buy the roast. I wasn’t going to eat it all by myself this year.
But, I had made plans for a little fling with The Marine, who I hadn’t seen in a while. It seems that we had had a long period of misunderstanding. First he left without notice for work and forgot to take his phone, prompting a bitchy message from me, thinking he lost interest. Then, he came over to talk and I confessed at one point I was starting to develop feelings for him, so it was probably good that that happened. We made amends, but I never heard from him after that. I had texted him about a week ago, and he said that, per our last conversation, he thought I wasn’t interested in carrying on with him anymore. Not the case, I explained, and we almost met up on Friday night, but I cancelled due to being too tired to stay up very late and postponed for the next day.
So, it was Saturday, and I felt like getting my frisky on, knowing that at some point during the night, I’d be in the sack with The Marine again. The only problem was, I sat down in bed after work, and was unable to get out of it.
I had enough time to take a nap before I got ready for some fun, so I did that. But, over the next few hours, my physical state began to tank. I hurt all over. I felt feverish. I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open.
Damn those upstairs neighbors and their incessantly barking dog who kept me up last night, I thought to myself. Surely, my lack of sleep and long day at work were to blame.
I managed to shower and dress and head to a place around the corner for some dinner and a few beers. I was totally drained. Surely some food would make me feel better. And the bartender there, who I had grown to know, invited me to join her for girl’s night at a local bar. Finally, an opportunity to make some good girl friends! She had to close down the place, so I had some down time between dinner and then, so I headed home. I took my temperature, still feeling like shit. 99.2. That’s a little high.
So, I did what I always do when I’m feeling bad and I search online and call my mom. And I’m dismayed to say it looks like I may have Mono. That swollen lump….or as it turns out, lymph node, was a clear indicator.
I then texted the Highway Guy and Mr. Blue Eyes, to ask them if they’ve had it before. Turns out once you have, you are a carrier of it for the rest of your life. Highway Guy didn’t respond (no surprise there), but Mr. Blue Eyes confessed he had had it in 2007. And, it had been about a month (the incubation period of Mono) since I had kissed Mr. Blue Eyes. Funny, I thought to myself, hadn’t I noticed my nodes in my throat being swollen for the past month, but never got sick?
I took a few ibuprofen and lay in bed. St. Patty’s went day down the tubes. I texted my bartender friend to let her know I wasn’t coming. I texted The Marine and cancelled that, too. And, I spent the rest of my evening texting with Mr. Blue Eyes, who seemed to be the only person in the state who really cared about me….but who I least wanted to.
I’ve gotten some sleep and I’m feeling better this morning. No fever and my body feels much better, though fatigue is still ruling my world. Hopefully it goes away soon. I’m just glad I’ve got my tonsils out. I’ve gotten sick far less often since their removal (and never contracted strep since…knock on wood), and should be able to skip the sore throat/cold symptoms because of it.
Another interesting fact – Mononucleosis, colloquially known as “the kissing disease”, due to contraction from swapping spit, is also believed to be sexually transmitted. I guess it could have been worse, right!?
The Great Sexcapade 
