I love my new doctor. And by love I mean I forgive him for his tresspasses.
He came in all cool and hip and smart and proceeded to trash French people after he found out I was born in Paris. He went on and on about how French people are so rude when Americans don't pronounce words correctly and went on to talk about Air France and how the French pilot completely butchered the English language and no one cared about that but when he, the doctor, pronounces "mange" slightly incorrectly to a french person, he gets corrected. This is a man who is not used to being wrong. Well, Dr., pronouncing "mange" is almost blasphemy to french people. This is what I was thinking, but instead I said something stupid (because I'm naked and vulnerable and not in the mood to defend the French as I'm wearing a flimsy paper gown), like "well, I don't know what that's about. You were pretty close." And by that, I meant, well, your accent is sucky, but I'm almost naked, so whatever.
He proceeded to check my blood pressure (rocket high!). He couldn't believe I'm not on meds. My former doctor is a quack. I knew this already, which is why I'm here.
Then he looked into my ear with that scope thing and almost jumped back in horror. He even made the nurse look. This is very rare. This is the worst case he's seen in a long time. Only once a year, tops, does he see something that bad. What is it. Meningitis. Laryngitis. I don't know what he said, but it ended in itis. He sent me on my way with my prescription. And gave me the peace sign. Really. For a very obviously smart guy with a bad French accent, he's pretty charming.
When I called Laura, I told her it's Meningitis, because that's all I remember. After the French bashing and the complete surprise at my inner ear, that's what I was left with.
After a few google attempts to diagnose me and determine my life expectancy, Laura learned that I may experience brain damage from the infection and worst case scenario, I had about three to four days to live . Well, I didn't feel THAT bad, I tried to reassure her. Though both my ears were throbbing. Damn. I'm dying.
She called me later (20 minutes), to tell me to call them back and find out if that's really what it is. Turns out it's "myringitis". Very different. Life expectency-wise.