Fevered Brow

Another witty Facebook entry yesterday, for posterity: 

Saw the doctor today. Diagnosis: MFF – Mysterious
Fiji Fever.

 Rx – Stacks of pills including amoxycillin.

survival, but still probably won’t have a life.

I must say, fever dreams are really much more interesting than the usual frustration dreams I seem to have.  Almost as good as having a life.

The problem is I am not so sure that my previous wholehearted acceptance of my Fiji doctors’ skills is completely justified.
MFF is my own name for whatever it is I have, of course.  It seems to be known here as "the bug going round" or "the
flu". Problem is that everyone very quickly makes the very dangerous
assumption that what you have is the same thing others have. I wonder, in this case.  It may
indeed be true, but the diagnosis of my affliction was very perfunctory – there were no tests other than the usual BP, a quick visual of my throat, and my fever was diagnosed by hand, from holding my arm. while taking the BP.
Which, incidentally is very elevated at 160/90  A new record!

It appears the answer is
always a pile of pills. I don’t know why I got amoxycillin for what I assume is a viral infection.  Some secondary infection maybe?  My medical colleagues are always railing against overprescription of antibiotics, and the developing world seems to put a lot of faith in treatment by medication. Is it appropriate?  I am not a doctor, and it is a fool who does not take a doctor’s advice.  The super painkiller anti inflammatory pills help and the leftovers  will come in handy I suppose.  But do I really need antihistamines and antibiotics?
Today; no change still. My head aches, my shoulders ache I am fevered and sweaty, and i just want to sleep.  I tried to do some work, but I can’t keep focused, either visually or mentally.

What I really need, I suspect, is a good rest and a cool loving hand on my fevered brow.


About Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
This entry was posted in Life, don't talk to me about life!. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Fevered Brow

  1. Pingback: A Scottish Fever Dream | Flitting Amongst The Swanplants

Please comment!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s