Have you ever had a fever in your boob? Let me tell you, it is not pleasant. A couple of weeks ago, my seven month old daughter, Lucy, was very sick. So much so that she wasn’t eating hardly at at all. Well, I was a little preoccupied freaking out about my sick baby and didn’t think to pump at all during this period of time. We took Lucy to the doctor and found out that she had a double ear infection, got her some fluids and some antibiotics and she perked right up. All’s well that ends well, right? Wrong.
The very day after Lucy started to get better, I started to feel like crap. And I don’t mean normal crap, I mean crap that has been sitting outside in the gosh-damn melting ice and snow, crap. Horribleness. I really, really felt like I had the flu, but I was missing some of the symptoms. It was really weird. My whole body ached, I had chills, I was really out of it, headache, all that jazz. But I didn’t have the stuffed up nose, sore throat, or sneezing that usually accompanies such a sickness. Peculiar.
Anyway, I kept getting worse, at times thinking I was going to die and wondering what kind of woman my new husband would end up with after I was gone… but then I felt almost a bruising feeling in my left breast. It was a bit strange and I didn’t think that much of it until the feeling started to move upwards into my shoulder. That was my “aha” moment. I vaguely remembered reading about people getting infections in their breasts at some point or another, but it was one of those “oh, that will never happen to me” kinds of reading. I grabbed my cell (because it’s never more than an arm’s reach away) and quickly googled “infection in breast”. I immediately found what I was looking for, mastitis. After a quick skim of the symptoms, I was pretty confident that was what I had, so I called up the ole’ OB-GYN and set up an appointment. I had just managed to bag the hottest man I had ever met, I wasn’t about to lose him because my breasts got all moldy and fell off.
I went to the doctor and she confirmed my suspicion of moldy breast and then prescribed me with a bunch of antibiotics. At this point my fever was at 102 and I was pretty out of it, so I went home and took a long, cuddly nap with the Little Lucy. I woke up with a fever of 103.8 when my hubby got home from work and at this point I was way more out of it than I had been before. My husband was concerned to say the least, especially when I started randomly singing church songs. Not creepy at all.
We tried cool clothes and ice-packs, but that only got my fever down to about 103, so I did what I always make my kids do when they have a high fever – luke-warm bath. In my feverish state, the idea of getting into a not-so-warm bathtub was not high on my to-do list, but I did it anyway. Turned out it felt rather good. Who knew?
This brought my fever down to about 101 and we breathed a collective sigh of relief. I wasn’t going to die. So I spent the next few days letting the antibiotics do their job and felt progressively better as time marched on. There was a brief moment of freaking out when a friend of mine posted that she had mastitis and almost had to have her boob cut off, but I managed to stay calm enough not to rush to the ER.
Fast forward to my doctor’s appointment a week later:
Apparently I should have called the doctor. Although I felt much better, I had developed a mass in my breast from the infection and it was all black and blue and peeling. Yum. There was also a shooting pain through my breast and a horrible intense itching. To make matters worse, my doctor told me that I had a severe yeast infection in my nipples and chastised me for not calling sooner. She immediately called the hospital and sent me over there for tests with words like ultrasound, mammogram and STAT. I called my husband and my mother and explained to them that I was going to the hospital for tests and that it sounded like I might keel over at any moment. I got to the hospital and everyone rushed me in like it was a life or death situation, so it was very anti-climatic when the ultrasound technician told me that the lump didn’t appear to be anything and that it should go away with another round of antibiotics. So I called everybody back up and told them that I wasn’t dying and bought myself some fast food for lunch.
Since it had been such a stressful day, I treated myself to a Rally’s bacon cheeseburger and a banana milkshake.
After all that, I had earned that milkshake, dammit.