how i stopped worrying and learned to love the millenium

XIII.
"I still have a sore throat," I said.
"You should go to the doctor, it might be strep," J. nudged.
"It's probably not strep."
"My uncle died of strep throat because he thought it was just a sore throat."

Well, you can't argue with that, so off to Kaiser I went, where the attending physician confirmed: strep throat. I gratefully accepted antibiotics and went home and slept for about three days straight. I have vague memories of J. coming in, poking me with a tender and concerned look on his face to make sure I was still alive.

When I emerged from my semi-comatose state, my throat felt much better, but my ears felt like they were being crushed in a vice. Back to Kaiser, where another, more impatient physician, snorted at my suggestion that I had an ear infection. No one gets ear infections in both ears at once, he barked. Just take some codeine to ease the pain. He scribbled out a prescription, and this is where I should have spoken up and mentioned that I had a history of bad reactions to codeine.

But I didn't, and this is why I spent the next two days throwing up everything except my vital organs. J. passed his first Serious Boyfriend Test when I threw up all in his (very new) car. (He drove me home, brought me a glass of water, tucked me in, and quietly went to the car wash and had them detox the interior, and then never spoke of it again.)

Which brings us to December 31, 1999. If there was ever an excuse to celebrate New Year's Eve with a flourish, that was it. Here's what we did: around 7 pm, we went over to our friend Frank's house and had hot pot. Me in a baggy sweatshirt and leggings, holding hot towels to my ears to relieve the pressure. Around 9, we went home and I retired to the futon with my hot towels. At midnight, we walked one flight upstairs to the roof and stayed outside just long enough to make sure that no apocalypse was going to occur. And by 12:08, I was back in bed.

Wednesday 06 February, 04:11 PM