I'm sorry, did you say "shingles"?!

So I've got shingles.

I know what you're thinking: "Shingles? really? Isn't that one of those diseases that never happens to anyone like scurvy or leprosy?"

Well it happens, and it's ugly. I woke up Tuesday morning with what appeared to be a bad case of bug bites on my neck. So naturally, I felt creeped out and moved on. I went to work. I thought about going to the doc that night, but in my grand tradition of making bad decisions, I went to a thanksgiving party instead. So Wednesday rolls around, and I definitely choose this day to NOT be the doctor day because I have a drum lesson. Nevermind that the right side of my neck and the right shoulder are barely movable because of (what I understand now) is nerve endings being attacked by my (no longer) dormant chicken pox.


I went to see Harry, because I love my time with him. Drum lessons are important to me, and not just because it's the coolest thing I've ever decided to learn to do, but because it's MY time. For one hour, every Wednesday, it's just me and him, rocking out (whether it be on drums or in conversation) It's really nice to have something all your own, that you don't share with anyone else that is a constant in life. And I don't meant that harshly-I mean it in the way that everyone needs to have their kind of "baby." Anywho, I wasn't about to give that up for two weeks in a row (seeing as I would be in Mob-town the next wednesday so we had to skip it) so I persevered.

We had an awesome session, and he reaffirmed my belief that I can actually get the mechanics down enough to learn the mental part of it. (he talks about this in his blog too, along with an awesome pic of me playing around) and I'm glad I went.

But-back to the shingles. So I had already planned to go to the doc in a box this morning, because I thought this thing hadn't gone away and maybe I should get it looked at. She took one look at my neck and said "shingles."

Shingles? really? this is when the terror kicked in. I had previously googled shingles (don't do it, it will scare the hell out of you) and I had heard some real horror stories. My first thought was of the pictures I had seen, followed by the question "Am I contagious, can I go to work?" and then the fear when she said "yes, and absolutely not." This was not going to go over well. I'm supposed to be out all of next week, I have various things to do. So I begrudgingly call my boss, and get my good friend Rhonda on the phone first. She pumps me up with courage by reaffirming that my doctor told me not, and they would just have to get over it.

I'm close to tears at this point, because I realize that I will no longer be able to have the fun-filled vacay chock full of nieces time that I had hoped for. Stupid motherf'ing shingles. So I let my boss know that I'm not allowed into the office, go home and pack for my week of quarentine.

I'm home now, and hoping and that this will not spread anywhere, especially my face. And making various phone calls to family members letting them know I might as well be a leper for the next few days and to not come around. At least I have my fearless mother, and my precious baby gretchen. I don't have my drum kit like I had hoped, but I felt that I would be in a world of pain the next few days and wouldn't be able to do it anyway. Who knows? Maybe this experience will make stella-claus a little more generous this year and I can get a full set? Please call me if you get a chance. Cabin fever is sure to set in by sunday. Later gators!