Dave and I stayed in yesterday. Neither one of us felt that great. As soon as I tell my friends that I'm not feeling well, the first question each one asks me is, "Che temperatura hai?" (What temperature do you have?) They think I'm nuts because I didn't have a thermometer until recently. I just know when I feel good and when I don't. I didn't need a thermometer to figure it out for me.
No matter what I say my temperature is, they tell me to take a specific medicine and to go see a doctor. I don't do either. I normally go to the pharmacy, explain what ails me, and they give me something. I trust them a bit more since it's their job.
M. called me and asked me if I wanted to go see her doctor. I said that I might do that, but I'll see how I feel in the morning. She asked me if I wanted the doctor to come to my house or if I wanted her to take me to the Emergency room. "No, no, non sono così malata!" (No, I'm not that sick) I told her.
A few hours later a doctor called me at the house not asking for anyone in particular and I just told him that he had the wrong number. I didn't think my friend would call without my consent. Didn't she remember that I said, "Ne parliamo più tardi?" (We'll talk about it later)
After I hung up with my friend, I promised to never tell her I was sick again unless I'm in the hospital already. And by then, somebody else can tell me what my temperature is.
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