The Scourge: Shingles and Me

Yep, I have shingles.  I haven't had a normal night's sleep since April 13, and I look like a weary old bag.  I'm not sure why I'm writing this post, except to let you know that you're acquainted with someone who's had shingles, and it's a bitch, every bit as bad as you've heard.

The pain I developed on the left side of my back two weeks ago, which I attributed to hefting a crate of oranges out of the Food Pantry fridge, turned out to be shingles.  The pain was the precursor to The Rash.  I won't go into it what that looks like--well, an ugly red trail extending from my backbone around the left side of my torso to my chest--but it hurt like hell.    (Two "hell's" and I'm only in the second paragraph.)

The muscle spasm phase was so disconcerting--muscles on the left side of my back seizing up so fiercely and unpredictably that I'd shout out loud.  "Stop it!"  "Shit!"  Or anything else that came to mind, Tourette's-like. I cancelled my birthday dinner in a restaurant because what would other patrons say?  A woman letting out loud, random shouts?   Also, the writhing. 

During that phase, my doctor prescribed a muscle relaxant and Aleve (nothing stronger due to doctors being freaked out about stronger meds turning us all into heroin addicts).  Ice helped a tiny bit. Heat was hopeless.

Ice was a minimal help

Several nights I didn't sleep at all, but paced around the house, sitting in various chairs trying to get comfortable, and switching out ice packs to try to soothe the pain.  If I got lucky, I'd get a couple of hours sleep from 6-8 am, when the really terrible pain seemed to retreat for the day, only to take hold again at 6 pm.

The appearance of the rash, which started small and seemed like eczema,  changed the picture.  Shingles? I thought, as I searched Google.   Tell me, no. I e-mailed the doctor, who requested photos.   "Definitely shingles," she wrote.  "Come in at 4:40 today."

I'll tell you this:  The doctor is much more sympathetic about shingles than about muscle spasms.  She's prescribed a six-week course of a med that she hopes will prevent the scary recurrent pain syndrome called,  "postherpetic neuralgia."  I'm to check in with her regularly.  She didn't push Acyclovir on me because I'm allergic to it, so I'm still coping with pain by using Aleve and ice.

This morning, I looked in the mirror and saw a seriously old-baggish,  unwell person.  I proceeded to use about half a tube under eye concealer to try to cover the big dark circles above and below my eyes. 

Definitely made things better

Then  I went to Safeway and bought a $4.99 miniature rose and a bag of peanut M&Ms to cheer myself up.  I smeared some more Tinactin on my rash (for some reason, this helps).

In case you're wondering:  I had The Shot.  My doctor talked me into it two years ago.  What she didn't tell me was the 50% of people who are vaccinated develop shingles anyway.  Maybe the shot means  a milder case, but who knows.  I would in no way describe this as mild.  You don't writhe with something "mild."

In the meantime, I had to abandon my normal life.  No pool exercise, no dinners or lunches with friends, very little e-mail.  No sewing.  I watched Foyle's War and HGTV.  I moaned. 

And now I've heard of two poor souls who had it twice.