Another shit day. Gregg woke up running a fever and vomiting this morning. I went to work for a couple of hours (long enough to catch up on stuff and make bank deposits) and came home at 11:00am to take him up to Urgent Care. Even though the ER doctors had run lots of tests, including a CT scan to make sure his lung was clear of any blood clots, as far as I knew they hadn't tested for flu or strep. (They did do a Covid test, which was negative).
After waiting two hours, he finally saw a doctor and tested negative for flu, strep, and a second Covid test. They gave him a shot of Zofran to stop the nausea and a prescription for Zofran tabs that melt under the tongue. Their best guess is that he has a virus that's just going to have to run its course.
Funny story: while we were waiting to be seen (the Urgent Care was packed today, there are lots of things going around) Gregg had to go to the bathroom adjacent to the waiting area to throw up. He was clearly audible, retching and dry heaving, and a little girl went up to the desk and said, "There's a man calling for help in the bathroom!" Two nurses hurried out with a key to unlock the door. I had to rush up and tell them that it was just my husband in there vomiting! But bless that kid for being so concerned for a stranger. None of the adults sitting around the room could have cared less that there was a man in distress in the bathroom.
Gregg still feels terrible, but at least he's not throwing up now. His sister texted me a little while ago to ask how he was doing. Here's the text exchange between us: