The Diagnosis

I told you yesterday about the awesome new colors I have been sporting on my nose the last couple of day (I am all Rudolph-the-red-nosed-reindeer look-a-like at the moment).

Well, Monday afternoon I trucked myself to my friendly neighborhood doctor's office to find out what the fweak is going on with my face.

So, after many questions and much careful checking, I was pronounced the proud new owner of a case of facial shingles.

Yup, this is the face of shingles.

I'll be honest, that was not even on my radar before this visit...but ok, it is what it is.  This rash will likely (according to those in the know) progress and slide itself around my face.  It will probably bring with it blisters and sores.  Sounds like a party!

I hurried home from the doctor's office to pack up the kidlets and head off to Ellie's pre-school program (oh will I be bombarding this blog with proud Momma pictures and videos of that event) and came home later to a semi-frantic message from the head doctor in the office.  He had gone over the notes from my visit and desperately wanted me to call that night or first thing in the morning because he wanted to add one more medicine to my regimen.  This did not make me feel good.  Desperate calls from doctors are not my idea of a good time.

Deep breath.  Exhale slowly.

Still, there are many worse things in the world than shingles.  I am still happily sitting around enjoying my family and the beautiful life we have together (although I am trying to find a non-painful way to address the itching on my face while I am doing it).

It seems to me that shingles is an excellent excuse to get out of pretty much anything for the next set of weeks or months.

"I would totally scrub down the bathroom today, but I have shingles so I can't."  Or, "Yes, I think I will have a second dessert, after all, I have shingles."

Seems like a good way to handle things if you ask me.