It's never good when the Physician's Asst. looks at you and says, hummm, I haven't seen THIS in awhile. No, it wasn't stinkbug bites, or lyme disease or some other crazy thing out of nowhere. The good news is I can catch up on my reading for a good week or so. The bad news is I have freakin' chickenpox. It stings and hurts and itches and I feel terrible. And everyday it is getting worse. I imagine myself as one of those poor waifish orphans in the time of the plaque in Londontown, languishing alone in some dreary basement flat. Daily growing more disfigured. (Okay I've seen too many movies. I'll be seeing many more here pretty soon...)
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Fortunately I have nothing but time on my hands so I can Google adult chicken pox till I am so much more freaked out, that I can't do that anymore, and figure I'll just rest, take pills and ride it out. There are no shortcuts.
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No I didn't have chickenpox as a kid. And no, that vaccination mark most of us have on our arms from way back when didn't include chickenpox at our age.
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