One cold sore sucks. Two cold sores are rare. But three cold sores make me want a lip transplant, now.

Yes, Tori, I know. Acyclovir. (Tori always tells me to take acyclovir. I thought I’d head her off at the pass.)

Absolutely could not find my energy this morning. I dragged harder and harder til I finally gave up and went home. And called the doctor.

Yes, I know it’s hard to believe, but I called my nonexistent doctor and asked for medication for the unsightly mass growing by the minute on my upper lip. I asked for Zovirax pills (acyclovir - are you proud Tori?) and the nurse said, ” [lengthy pause] What?”

So I patiently explained that Famvir does less than nothing, and that the doctor told me to let him know if Famvir didn’t work, so I’m letting him know right now, and I want Zovirax called in. Ohhh-kaaaay?

Yeah, I knew this would be like talking to a wall.

Fell asleep for an hour, until the nurse called back. A different one this time. “The doctor called in Famvir. Is that okay?”

My doctor, you see, is a teacher and clinician as well as an internist with a private practice. His nurses have learned the mantra, “Sounds viral - drink lots of fluids. There’s nothing he can do,” and have it down to a science. Melissa used to joke that he didn’t really exist. When I had my accident in March ‘00, she told me there was no need to call the dr - he’d just tell me it was viral. And damned if she wasn’t half-right: he didn’t want to see me then, either.

So, my teacher-clinician-doctor prescribed the same old shit for me, and I just lay there in bed, speechless. What about Zovirax, I asked. What about it, she returned. I painfully and slowly explained the story again, and she said that I could either wait several hours for the doctor to “find out about” Zovirax, or just take the Famvir.

Famvir it is.

At this point, I’d take a lip transplant. Just roll me out of the way when the pain gets to be too much and I scratch my lips off and bleed to death.

Whining,

michelle