A Pop Felt at 39,000 Feet

Mid-flight home from one of the best vacations of my life, something strange (and honestly a little alarming) happened. I felt a sudden pop deep in a gland on the left side of my throat. I turned to Sean and said, “I think a gland just popped out.” He laughed it off, reminding me that at 39,000 feet in the air it was probably just cabin pressure. I wanted to believe him. I didn’t realize in that moment that this tiny, bizarre sensation was just the beginning. It marked Day One of a wild and unexpected medical journey.

Fireworks, Fevers & the Fine Art of Showing Up

July 3
I woke up and couldn’t swallow—not even water. At first, I figured it was just a sinus infection… maybe strep. But every sip felt like swallowing nails. Fever hit hard. By afternoon, I dragged myself to urgent care. They swabbed me for everything—COVID and strep. You name it. Then they sent me home with 600mg ibuprofen. They promised that results would come “midweek,” thanks to the holiday.

July 4
The pain was worse than I could have imagined. My fever wouldn’t quit. Somehow I scored a same-day appointment at One Medical. The NP took one look and said, “Pretty sure this is strep.” On her 1–4 severity scale, I was a 3. I left with amoxicillin and instructions to alternate acetaminophen and ibuprofen every three hours. My new July 4th plans? Forget fireworks—just survive the night.

July 6
Still miserable, but my brain kept whispering, Tomorrow you’ll feel better. I’d been on antibiotics for 48 hours. I convinced myself I was ready for a quick NYC trip for a leadership offsite. I packed, went to bed early, and decided the morning would bring a miracle.

July 7
Morning came—no miracle. I showered, willed myself to rally, and still… nope. I pinged Matt that I’d have to dial in. For most people, maybe not a big deal. But for me? HUGE. I was still building a relationship with him as our new leader, and I thrive in team settings. Missing this offsite felt like a gut punch. The silver lining: I joined virtually. I gave it everything I from my home office (and eventually, my couch) for the next two days. My camera was on. I kept my energy up. I hoped my determination came through more than my exhaustion.

Meet Fuso: The Uninvited Guest

On July 9, urgent care finally called. Tests were back. Diagnosis: Fusobacterium. A word I’d never heard before, paired with instructions for immediate treatment. Instead of heading back to urgent care, I asked them to send my results to One Medical. They switched me to Augmentin, assuring me this would knock it out.

For a couple of days, I convinced myself it was working. I still showed up for the leadership offsite virtually. My camera was on. I tried to summon energy during the day. Then I collapsed into bed by 7 p.m. at night. My doctor also told me I needed to see a specialist — STAT. The earliest appointment? Not until the following Tuesday.

By July 12, my cousin Jeff and his daughters had arrived from Budapest. It was a trip we’d been planning for months. One of our first stops was Alcatraz with the whole family, and I woke up thinking fresh air would help. It didn’t. By 7 p.m., I felt feverish. I was wiped out. I left the dinner table and told Sean, “I can’t handle this anymore, I just need to sleep.” He didn’t hesitate. He said, “Just go. I’ll take care of cleaning up and hanging out with Jeff and the girls tonight.”

The next morning, we had plans to hike in Marin, but my body had hit a wall. I knew if I didn’t rest, there was no way I’d make it through the workweek ahead. So, I had to skip out on our plans and told Jeff I wouldn’t be joining. His response was gentle and immediate: “Chelle-belle, you need to take care of you and get better.”

I hated missing out on family time. However, I spent the weekend tucked away in bed and couch. I was caught between the guilt of saying no and the fear of falling behind at work. Additionally, there was the sinking reality that Fuso wasn’t leaving quietly.