Now the doctor wants to rule out mononucleosis, so she took some blood and told me to call for the results Monday afternoon. In the meantime, there didn’t seem to be too much she could do about my really sore throat, other than to confirm, via shining a light down my maw, that, yes, it sure is sore.
After doping myself with phenol and aspirin, I went out for dinner at Blue Smoke, where my parents and I had dinner in December. Back then, I’d described the atmosphere as resembling that of Outback Steakhouse although I’d forgotten why. I remembered why when I got there at 8 p.m.: it has a comfortable atmosphere with simple tables, booths and wooden floors; it’s noisy; and it caters to families. When my parents and I were there, I don’t recall seeing a single kid. But tonight, the place had more than a few shrieking infants (including some at the table right next to mine), plus a bunch of shrieking college-age people bustling around the bar in a haze of black leather jackets, strong cologne and pheromones.
I had the sliced beef brisket, which was lean, meaty and hearty and for dessert, I got some warm apple crisp with throat-soothing maple pecan ice cream.