a case of the shingles

Let me take a break from my intermittent ipod blogging to talk about my condition that is symptomatic of immunocompromised individuals and the elderly. I have been experiencing it for approximately 3 weeks with noone to empathize these conditions with, leading me to feel like a hypercondriacting, ultra-sensative, weak whiny baby that just has to learn to deal.

Fast-forward through the holidays: my pants begin hurting in ways that not even multiple-helpings of a thanksgiving and/or holiday meal can cause. The way I described it in soliciting pity was a bruised shank steak of a hip with hot gravy poured down the front and side, with my clothes feeling like a barbed wire piece of bread sandwiching the two painfully together. Naturally, people thought I was just coming on to them.

So after an unrelated injury also happened, I thought I might use my extended time from work to see if my doctor could make something of this self-diagnosed bursitis.

DR. OFFICE
I notice on the files I need to verify for 'computerization' I have been a patient since 2002. Immediately, I feel a closeness to this doctor, who for the most part has only seen me annually, never seen me nude, and has only dealt out anti-depressants and once asked me where I got my pot cookies after I confessed that I lost my shit eating too many. She's very Cold Water Creek maternal. Just how I like my docs, I guess.

DIAGNOSIS
In the examination, I try to break down my symptoms, altho its been two weeks since I was able to secure an appointment, I am mostly remembering the pain. It starts to flare up a bit while I am sitting there. She asks me to disrobe and she is going to go check on the turkey or something. After she leaves, I am not sure how far to take my clothes off. I decide that undies and socks will show her I am not easy. I feel uncomfortable about disturbing the pile of paper dresses that I wasn't given. I opt to fold my pants over my lap and wait.

She returns and offers me a paper gown. She examines the hip and folds my leg all around to find any subsequent pain. At this point, I thought i might mention this coincidental cluster of spider or mosquito bites on the trunk of my back that got me real good.

She stepped back. She rinsed her hands and told me I had shingles. The word (like chickenpox) seems like such a hygiene-related funky disorder. I was shocked. Does this mean... I am an old person?

PROGNOSIS
I really was in shock. I always go into the doctor's office expecting two things: "it's nothing, yer fine", or "you have cancer". So I didn't have time to form follow up questions. She told me I had already endured what is classically known as very painful both in the skin and from the lesions. Its clearing up, so no crazy steroids or awesome pain-relievers. Just a sense of knowing that I am a total bad-ass!

I realized the whole exchange that I had with my doctor had been so one-sided. I asked if she liked the computerization of things. She sighed and turned to me suddenly candid. She was unhappy. She said she also had some bad news to report before everything was over. She was ending her practice there. She described some things I didn't understand about residency and practice. All I kept thinking is that my doctor was breaking up with me while my pants are off...

FAQ
She left the room again to go test the mashed potatoes and I tried to think of important questions to ask her. She used google several times while we sat there discovering the dermatomal zones of my pain. I thought, anything I might forget I will go home and soak up like a sponge.

She had already told me that only the site of the blistering bumps would be contagious to those who have never been infected by chickenpox and mine had already sored up. She told me it lies internally dormant in our nerves after we contract chickenpox (mine was an ugly bitch of a case at 16!), and emerges only during times where our immune-systems are weak, like AIDS, or cancer (which is being ruled out in a blood test right now I hope), and of course, stress. "Can my cats, who sleep right next to me get it?" and just like that, perfectly straight-faced and not laughing at me, she said, "no".

Good-bye Dr. Cold Water Creek, good-bye.