At long last, I’m writing about the whirlwind of moving across the county. Two days before my flight from Toronto to Vancouver, I came down with an incredibly sore throat. The following day, I went to a walk-in clinic downtown and the doctor — taking one look at me — diagnosed me with strep. She prescribed me with 10 days worth of penicillin and sent me on my way.
Given how often I get sick and how commonly penicillin is prescribed, I didn’t think I would have any problems with it. The only drug I’ve experienced to react poorly with Crohn’s is cloxacillin. The pharmacist upon receiving my scrip and hearing about my “allergy” warned that penicillin and cloxacillin are in the same family and could result in the same problems. I took the risk anyway. Poor choice on my part.
Hours after my first dose, I was in the bathroom. Effectively everything I consumed that day was flushed out of me thanks to the penicillin. With my flight the following afternoon, I was worried, to say the least.
Thankfully the pharmacist turned out to be a saint. I called her first thing in the morning and she contacted the doctor, found an alternative antibiotic — azithromycin — and had the new prescription sent to my local drugstore. Sending it to the new store was crucial since there was no way I could make it downtown and then to the airport.
I made it to my flight without any problems, and about six hours later I was standing in my new, unfurnished apartment. Never a dull moment.