Chicken Pox
Well, not quite. Apparently I have shingles.
I’m feeling a little less sore at the moment, so I thought I’d record how it came about.
It started last weekend, with the 5th metacarpal bone (on my right hand) and skin around it feeling like it had taken a bit of a severe bash. I thought it was just a transitory thing, and presumed it would go away after a couple of days.
By Wednesday, the pain had spread to the entire outside of my right hand, lower right forearm and my right shoulder, and the skin had become very sensitive to movement; even my sleeve rubbing the skin was incredibly painful.
Later that day, I noticed that I’d developed small patches of a rash on my right midriff, on the front, side and back, which was becoming increasingly painful as the day wore on. I also started to develop a pain at the top of my right leg, and a bit of prodding and poking led me to what seemed to be a swollen lymph node. Pressing it resulted in me suffering a great deal of pain.
The next day, Thursday, I went to work, but gradually the pain became worse, walking became increasingly painful. I made an appointment to see my doctor, but the earliest I could get one was Monday — bloody typical. Towards the afternoon, I ended up having to leave work earlier then usual. Unfortunately, I had to cancel going to a friend’s birthday meal, which I was really looking forward to, and ended up having a prolonged soak in the bath.
On Friday, I went in to work as usual (although still limping due to the inflamation at the top of my leg) and the pain had spread from my right hand throughout my arm and from my right buttock up my back towards the shoulder. My boss, who’d trained as a doctor, suspected that I might have developed shingles, and told me that I should make an immediate appointment with the doctor which, surpisingly, I managed to arrange.
After seeing the doctor later that morning, who confirmed that it was indeed shingles, I was told that there was nothing that could be done for the condition itself (I hadn’t caught it early enough) but that I should just get some rest and, if the itching became unbearable, put some anti-histamine cream on the rash.
So, here I am, sore and rashy (although not contagious) and feeling sorry for myself. But not as bad as I’m feeling for TheWife(tm), because now I can’t go with her to London to see Tom Waits, one of her favourite singer/songwriters of all time.
I’m sorry sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you one day.