Going viral is never fun

 

I spent the evening in the ED. Joy. It's my fault, really. The meds I take for pain also slow down the digestive process.

Hey, nothing a bottle of Magnesium citrate can't cure.

O. M. G.

I'll spare you all the details. Suffice to say, I will never do that again.

I curled up with Better Half to take a nap, but woke up with a fever and chills, and feeling every bit as floaty as one would expect from calcium overload. Thinking it was all related, we drove into Steubenville.

It wasn't related. Gastric nonsense aside, I have a viral infection. Not THE virus, although they all but gave me a Pap smear via my left nostril, "Just to be safe."

I have to self-isolate until that test result comes back. Could be 24 hours from now, or 7 days. Hey, it's a holiday weekend. Stuff happens.

I already have a game plan, if it is COVID-19. I'm going to grab every last dog bed and pillow, hollow out a nest in the office, and pretend to be a troll. Not a "trollhunter" troll, or an internet troll. Just something happy to live under a bridge and munch on gruff goats.

Image credit: Chet Phillips

Other than that, we'll keep an eye on my fever and dose me with Tylenol. I'll return to the ED if I need to.

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7 September update: Given the lack of change, I'm betting it's a virus affecting my digestive track rather than my potty woes being from the magnesium.

10 September update: COVID19 test came back. I don't have it. Whew. Still feel like shit, though.