Thursday, August 13, 2009

I Ate Chicken and Then It Burned When I Peed

In early June I was feeling super exhausted and having super bad icky feelings so I hauled ass to the doctor with screaming daughter in tow while son with big ears was at a summer program.

My doctor and I both assumed I had a UTI. My symptoms were not quite textbook, and my initial test results a little odd, but whatever. As he pointed out I've been under extreme stress too. I was sent away with a rx for antibiotics.

Six days later his nurse called.

"We got your final test results back. And may I just say wow! Talk about rare! It's like really, really rare! First case ever in our office! And it doesn't normally show up this way either. That makes it even more rare!"

The diagnosis was a little scary and way confusing. I called one of my bestest friends, who besides having been a nurse just knows everything. She already knew I'd gone in and about all my symptoms, even made me a special tea to drink. (Insert warm fuzzy smile.) Now with my new surprising diagnosis we went over it again because it just didn't add up. Why wasn't the doctor asking questions to find out how I'd gotten a rare typically food-borne illness in an even rarer place?

My amazing friend Dr. Googled a few key items, translated a few medical articles back into English, and took a moment to think.

"Okay, so you totally know you don't have to answer this, but have you and J recently done it doggie style?"

OH. MY. GAWD. Just like two or many more times a day for the last solid week before getting sick! HOW DID SHE KNOW? Last time we'd talked silly girlfriend sex I'd still been a fuck me in a bubble bath phase. Stupid 30-something hormones and buzzy cock rings.

SALMONELLA. Confirmed on two separate occasions by two separate labs by four separate tests. And let me just tell you that nothing will make you feel like a skankier ho than having the state Health Department call and grill you. The nurse was really nice about it, but c'mon, salmonella as an STD?

And because everyone always wants to know: bbq chicken. At a friend's house.

But not the sex. That was at home.


M said...

What did you do to the chicken before getting frisky?!

Heidi said...

Frisky = a word I need to use more often.

The chicken was consumed the old fashioned way which put the salmonella into my digestive track. Chicka-bow chicka-bow chicka-bow chicka-bow-wow -- it spread. While the sex was, shall we say...vanilla, the position + gadgetry makes catching something a gazillion times more likely.

Doe said...

Oh Heidi... chicka-bow, mchicka-bow.

emzeegee & the hungry three said...

It has taken me weeks to reply to this post because I have been scratching my head and saying, "What the...?" "But how...??" "I don't get...??" I should've come here and read the reply, then it would have all made more sense! I was trying to work out the mechanics.

In my twisted mind I was all, Ohhh, so he didn't wash his hands after eating and so it was on his fingers and then... but your explanation is far more tame. *phew*

...and btw, this is why I love your blog.