Okay, the title is a pretty good summary of where I’m going with this. The second half of May, despite a lovely visit from a friend, has sucked and involved the bad sort of physical discomfort.
What’s happened? First, I had to have a root canal (which would suck enough) only to have them get halfway through (that is, get to the point where they were poking at the nerve or whatever it is dentists do) and discover the tooth in question had a crack in it and needed to be extracted. Then, just as my mouth was starting to heal, I woke up covered in red hives. The assumption was that I was having one of my allergic reactions to pain meds and so had a trip to emergency for steroids. But no, Tuesday I find out it’s possibly shingles — which while I’m feeling pretty old lately, I’m still 20 years too young to be getting. Except I have the marks all over so it’s even more likely, given that I was exposed to shingles a few weeks ago, I’ve got chicken pox. Again.
Yes, you read that right. I’ve caught them again. Assuming this is chicken pox all over my face, neck, chest and shoulders (which is what my Dr. Mom thinks), it’ll mark the sixth time in my life I’ve had it. Four times as a child, once in my 20s and now again in my 40s. I’ve never been able to develop immunity to childhood illnesses and tend to catch them whenever I’m exposed (which is why you see me react with horror when I hear of children not being vaccinated — I’m not just worried about them, but also me).
The only positives, if there are any, is that first, everyone I work with is apparently immune so I don’t need to miss three weeks of work in order to heal up (since I get paid by the hour in the summer, missing 60 hours of work would add poverty to the general suckage) and I’ve had eczema for so many years now that the chicken pox really doesn’t feel that bad. Certainly not as bad anyway. What it is is unsightly, itchy and, well scabby.