Arcanobacterium Haemolyticum
It’s official. That’s what I had. I returned to the doctor for a follow up yesterday and that is what the throat culture revealed. It’s apparently a type of sore throat that is accompanied by an all-over body rash that spares the face and genitals (fortunately). It’s often misdiagnosed as strep, though, since most people go on antibiotics before the rash develops or spreads. Lucky me got to experience the entire affliction.
But I’m back at work and I’m no longer contaminated. I am, however, missing graduation today because I encouraged my parents to stay home. They were supposed to come to Boston yesterday but with the rain and me still not knowing what I had until the afternoon, we thought it was best to skip the graduation ceremony. Besides, now that the pain is gone, I’m horribly itchy and I’m sure that damn gown would have driven me crazy.
Thank you for all of your sweet comments the past two days as I wallowed in misery. From this paragraph forward, I promise not to mention this thing ever again.
It just dawned on me that I leave for Paris next week. This trip surely has snuck up on me. Mike and I haven’t even booked hotel rooms for the nights in London (we have lodging covered in Paris and Oxford for the bulk of the trip: 14 of the 17 nights). I keep thinking “economy”….but perhaps we should splurge since we’re getting such a deal the rest of the time?
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Oh, go on – think of Eddie & Pats and SPLURGE, sweeties! It’s London (where everything’s appallingly expensive, so you might as well enjoy yourself…)…good heavens, there’s even a good episode plotline in getting over a mysterious, rare disease…certainly something after which treating oneself well would be de rigeur…
With all this rain, skipping the commencement ceremonies makes some sense – those gowns (well, the black ones, anyway) have a dye in them which is prone to running. It rained on us at the outset in 1990, so we were advised to wear one of those flimsy clear plastic trash bags over our street clothes (often white shirts, etc.) and under the gowns or we would regret it…
What you’ll do to get out of the graduation you didn’t want to go to in the first place? Geez! Such drama!
Really, though, glad to know the creeping crud isn’t something more serious. Feel better soon!
Very fancy name for your cruddy rash. I say splurge, what the hell.
You’re at work while you’re itching like mad? Goodness, what a joy you must be to have as a coworker today. 😉
I stayed in an lovely guest house called the Arran House in London that has some really nice comfy rooms with private bath available (“en suite”). They do a nice hot breakfast too, and are pretty centrally located (right by Russel Square, near Leicester Square). http://www.arranhotel-london.com/
You might as well. Think how awful some cities can be on the cheap, imagine going to Boston and staying the bayside expo doubletree or something.
This bacteria sounds much better than gonorrhea. At least you won’t be getting any more freaked out e-mails from your mom (shudder!).
Sorry (?) to hear that you’re missing graduation.
If you think you’re going to be spending a large amount of time in your hotel room, then I say splurge. If you’re just using it as a landing pad for your trip, why bother? After all, why pay all the money for spas and things like that if you’re only going to sleep in your hotel? Most of the ones that I stayed in have a nice kitchen inside where you can get a nice hearty English breakfast.
I can vouch for the Arran House and some of the places like it as reasonable, clean, convenient, not-expensive (by London standards) places to stay. I think I MIGHT have stayed there once, years ago, but forget; I know I stayed at the St. Margaret’s Hotel down the road a ways, again, back in 1990. It was bath-down-the-hall, but inexpensive with a good English breakfast (everything fried in one pan – including the breat, if I recall – will keep you fuelled all day, though Mike will be grossed-out…don’t explain black pudding to him…), clean. Of course, the fat homophobic chatty daughter of the family who owned the place (she’s probably now the owner…hmmm…maybe not such a good idea…) insisted on chatting me up/flirting outrageously for days…since I didn’t want ground glass in my oatmeal, I didn’t haul off on her verbally…now rather wish I had…ok, scratch that. In any case, that whole street is lined with B&Bs, some better than others – check the ratings. Convenient to the gayish stuff in SoHo, also.