So guess what I managed to get...

I'm 37 years old.

I'm a healthy female.

Other than the herniated discs in my neck...and my fibromyalgia...with the occassional migraine...

I have bronchitis once in a while, and catch colds...

Have had Herpangina (the adult form of hand, foot and mouth disease)...O.M.G so very very painful.

Now I have the icing on the cake.

Shingles.

Uh huh...oh yes... shingles. 

I have fucking shingles.

What. The. Fuck.

Started Monday morning with the headache of all headaches.  Felt like a head injury headache.

Popped a few Motrin every few hours and dealt with it.

Tuesday...felt semi OK.  Still had a horribly sore spot on my head and was exhausted.  Called in sick to work.  Slept all afternoon.

WebMD'd the hell out of my symptoms.

Nothing.

Wednesday felt pretty ok.  Sore spot was miserable.  The throbbing in my jaws was awful.  Took myself to local walk in clinic.  Explained the head injury pain.  Explained my lack of nausea and light sensitivity. 

They sent me to the ER.  I hung out in the ER and was beginning to think I wasn't drunk or bloody enough to be there.  They pumped me up with Dacradon, Toradol and something else.  I felt pretty good.

Thursday...go to class.  Feeling OK.  Tired.  Pain on top of head and ice picks are jabbing away.

Friday...go to work.  Clinic calls to follow up.  I told them my pain was still a 7.  They wanted me back in to do a CT scan.  So my doc sends me on my way.

CT scan comes back normal.  New pain meds...

Nada...still wanting to cut the top of my head off.  Now the pain has spread to my jaw, forehead and my left eye brow is numb.

My parents show up because my mom can't stand not knowing if I am OK.

The Husband leaves for Drill on Saturday morning.  My left eye feels funny.  

Oh goodie...its almost swollen shut.

Awesome.

So my dad and I go to the clinic again...and then I practically break out right there in the room.

I have shingles.

Lovely lovely shingles.

Thankfully most are in my scalp/hair.  I have three bumps on my forehead.

I cried.

I have a big job interview on Tuesday.  I've had to notify my doctor (who was very sympathetic and understanding), my maid, my son's daycare teacher and my school.

I had a huge crying jag, very similar to the one I had when I was eight and had the chickenpox.

I've slept in a vicodin/prednisone/valtrex induced coma all day while my parents took care of Kiddo.

I wanted to explain to the pharmacist why I was picking up valtrex, but didn't feel like it.  If he thinks I have the Naughty Naughty Disease, oh well.

And if the Naughty Naughty Disease feels anything like this Down There...I am sorry.

This shit hurts...like bad.