On Streptococcus

To whom it may concern,

Normally I'd start a letter with "Dear...", but in this case there cannot be any reason to be so generous. There is, after all, nothing "dear" about streptococcal pharyngitis, strep throat, and just like that we have arrived at the core of the matter: the absolute repulsiveness of the Streptococcus,  and how they themselves refuse to acknowledge this fact and improve (or better still - just leave already!).

At the moment,  the latter is their biggest flaw in my humble opinion.  That they simply won't leave. Gah.

I get that I'm a great host, and I recognize the compliment disguised in this. The streps think I provide a friendly growth-promoting environment, and they show their gratitude by staying, and thriving. Gee, you guys! You really shouldn't have! No, really...

Because being the host of (uninvited) guests that overstay their welcome (not that they ever were welcome...) is no walk in the park. In fact, I haven't been able to walk much at all outside, even though the weather has been lovely. All thanks to those nasty coccus (oh, come on, someone had to say it, and since I'm the only one "speaking" here it better be me).

The streppies have been nothing but trouble. In addition to blocking outdoors (and indoors, I might add) recreational activities, they have now stopped me from going to work. You see, holding a lecture (or five, as it was supposed to be) about World War One is slightly difficult when your throat is swollen to the point that speaking at all (or eating. Or drinking. Or for that matter breathing) is difficult.

Add to that the fevers. I nearly never have one (probably partly due to the fact that my body on average holds a temperature around 36 c, a full degree below normal body temperature for human beings), so when I actually get a fever my brain more or less stop functioning. Once I achieve 37 c, normal for most people, I am already burning. Kick it up to 39, which I did this weekend,  and you'd be lucky to get coherent sentences out of me. My boyfriend tried, when picking me up from the pile I'd collapsed in on the floor: "Is there anything I can do for you?" My answer: "Doctor. Medicine. Radish" (or something very close).

Thus, the strepsons and I do not function very well together.  See, this isn't their first visit. Oh, no. They were here just a week and a half ago too. Back then I was convinced I had an ear infection because the swelling was affecting the nerves going up there, but a visit to my doctor revealed the true culprit. She gave me antibiotics, and after a few days I was more or less restored to my old self ("less", because my motivation to do anything but lie on the couch all day watching "Game of Thrones" was still out sick...).

No wonder, then, that I was annoyed when after I had returned to work (once I got the motivation on board) my throat started aching again, in an all too familiar way. It was as though the coc-streps (you thought it, not me) had launched a new and fierce plan to disrupt my peace (or rather stress, actually, since the idea of lecturing about World War One in no way seem peaceful to me).

I can only hope that a new batch of antibiotics will do the trick and send the strepomens packing. And to help, here is my plea to them (thus explaining the "whom" from the introduction of this post): just leave already!!!