Hoping my gynecologist doesn't make great Bacon Turkey Bravo sandwiches (Or: I'm still sick and not fit to be out in public)

I emerged from my haze of fog today, my illness that pinned me to the couch for the past seven days, to return to the world of normalcy, maybe do a little work, maybe have some conversations with people that are not J or the dogs, or talking to the characters on 90210. I've been feeling better, sort of, save some major congestion in my right ear, which means I can't really hear anything except this high-pitched ringing sound it's causing, and when I went to the doctor this morning she looked in there with her little ear-inspecting instrument, and she laughed, and said "Woah! You've got so much fluid in there!" and I laughed too, because apparently I had so much fluid in there it was kind of funny, and then I asked her what I could do about it and her expression turned more solemn and she said "you just have to wait it out."

So I'm opting to, you know, get off the couch while I wait it out, and returned to the newspaper office today and stopped over at Panera Bread to get some lunch and I was waiting for my soup and salad, standing there, cringing at everyone, trying to make them understand that I was there but I wasn't exactly all there if you know what I mean because I can't hear out of my right ear for Christssakes, except I CAN hear my my own voice, and other noises I might make, like swallowing, very loudly, like I'm in some cavern, and how is a person supposed to live like that? And I noticed this guy who works there, who is always very friendly, just chatting it up with all the customers and I squinted my eyes a little and realized he looks kind of like my gynecologist and then because I really wasn't feeling up to snuff, I think, I started to wonder if maybe he WAS my gynecologist and that I'd just never recognized him because in the doctor's office he's always wearing a lab coat or whatever, and today he was wearing Panera clothes.

I couldn't believe it and thought about how it probably wasn't good that my gynecologist was moonlighting at Panera Bread because, first of all, how come he wasn't making enough money at his practice? What kind of place was I entrusting my reproductive organs to if the doctors have to get additional part-time jobs at local eateries? Also, if you're a reputable doctor, wouldn't you find that kind of job - the kind of job where you're handing out samples of freshly baked cinnamon buns out to strangers, which is exactly what this guy was doing - beneath you? Not that a job at Panera is beneath anyone, believe me, I love those guys who make me my You-Pick-Two combo meal with soup, salad and an apple as a side, it's just that, you know, I figure it might be beneath a doctor. A good doctor anyway.

After standing there frowning at the guy for the brief period before they called out my name to let me know my to go order was ready (see? another reason I love it there, your food is ready in a flash) and then really, really thinking about it, I realized that the Panera employee was undoubtedly not my gynecologist, they just looked a little bit alike. Which, honestly, is also kind of weird.

Anyway, what I learned today is that it might be another good week before I'm feeling back to my normal, healthy, non-delusional self. And that's ok. I've become incredibly awesome at "resting" (watching as many episodes of "The Girls Next Door" as is humanly possible and all our movies on DVD, over and over again).