Out of the Frying Pan and into the Fire

That is a fairly common saying, but for true fans, you will know exactly what I am alluding to.

I came down with a nasty cold this week. I had been healthy all year, a feat for someone who teaches 7th grade. I stayed home from school on Wednesday, but dragged myself to school on Thursday sans voice. My students needed me. We had work to do! We also had parent teacher conferences that evening, but I had to communicate in purple via a small white board.

I again dragged myself to school on Friday along with my laptop. I had decided I needed to be a little more high tech about how I communicated with my students. With my laptop connected to the projector, I typed my lesson. The kids were great. It wasn't a big deal because they were just finishing an assignment I had given them the day before.

Despite my innovations, by lunch time, I was done for. Leaving my lunch where it was, I went directly to the team office and collapsed on the couch. The teacher who was already there put her jacket over me, and as the other teachers came in I could hear the whispered--she should go home--yes, but there aren't any subs--well, who has 5th period prep--etc. Twenty minutes later, I was told that the remaining classes were covered and that I was to go home.

I printed out my lesson off my laptop--it was very convenient to have it all scripted word for word--packed up my stuff, and went home. My plan was to take my temperature, two TylenolPM, and sleep for as long as I could. I was out of the frying plan.

I successfully took my temperature (101+) with my relic of a thermometer--the old glass and mercury kind. Unfortunately, as I was shaking it down, it hit the sink and broke. Great! I carefully cleaned everything up, took a decongestant, two Tylenol PM, and crawled into bed. That's when I realized I had something in my eye.

I crawled out of bed and extracted an eye lash; however, after crawling in and out of bed two more times, I realized that a minute piece of glass from the thermometer was in my eye. Double Great! After debating with myself for about a minute, I knew that I had to go directly to the doctor. Problem: I couldn't drive. I took two TylenolPM.

I called my visiting teacher who found someone to take me to the doctor as she herself couldn't. No appointment times were available, but "foreign body" patients don't have to have one apparently. As I talked to the lady at Kaiser, I was crying, but I told her I wasn't going to try to stop as the tears would probably help.

Fighting sleep, a temperature, a cough, and the fatigue that comes from not having eaten anything since breakfast, I made it to the doctor's office with the assistance of a sister in my ward. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long to see the optometrist. She numbed my eye and confirmed that I did have a sliver of glass embedded in my cornea. After explaining exactly what she was about to do, she fished it out whereupon I became lightheaded and nauseous. It took five minutes of lying down on the floor and two cans of OJ to get me feeling a bit better. I now have to put antibacterial ointment into my eye three times a day for the next few days. That, I can handle.

So here I am alternately taking decongestant and putting cream in my eye. Everyone keeps saying--That's terrible--you poor thing. Granted, it's not very fun, but I'm more inclined to laugh than cry. Who would have thought that I would end up at the optometrist's getting glass removed from my eye when all I wanted to do was take two TylenolPM and go to sleep. Talk about going from the frying pan into the fire.

Here's a picture of my new thermometer purchased yesterday when I picked up my eye-cream prescription (It wouldn't upload right side up!). When I read the back, I had to chuckle.