I was feeling perfectly fine just after lunch at 12:30. By 2:30 I had a raging fever, was shaking like a dog on a wet day and was so miserable that my husband actually started calling doctor's offices to find one that was still open (I must have looked really bad). Elizabeth knew something was up when I kept giving her the same breast to feed from over and over despite her persistently turning it down, and even though it wasn't naptime.
The whole family came trooping out to the clinic, including Auntie Janice. Elizabeth was in her element because she got to "drive" the car almost as long as she wanted to.
When I finally got in to see the doctor he took one look at me and the conversation went something like this: "you've got the flu" to which I replied "no I don't", "are you breastfeeding?" "yes", "oh, well then I know what the matter is... which side is it", unzip jacket, "oh".
So needless to say I am not at all a fan of mastitis. The good news is that my loving husband, suspicious daughter, lots of tylenol and a course of antibiotics have collectively figured out how to shoo it away.