Googling for My Health

I’ll admit that I always occasionally Google medical stuff. You know, symptoms I have, how to deal with what the doctor just diagnosed me, etc.

Fact: The Internet is ruining our lives.

Image courtesy of someecards.com

Since being officially diagnosed with shingles this last Friday (hey great news — I apparently caught it super early, so it’s just gotten worse since then!), I knew I was in for a miserable weekend. What I didn’t anticipate was missing a week of work, being holed up in our apartment, unable to lower my left arm most of the time (swollen lymph node). Which is super fun, let me tell you. I’ve gotten a lot accomplished; the 3rd season of “Drop Dead Diva,” the 12th season of “Law and Order: SVU,” a good chunk of “Hot in Cleveland,” “How I Met Your Mother,” “Flashpoint” and “The Next Food Network Star” and Modern Warfare 3, not to mention Call of Duty: Black Ops.

Image courtesy of jspaan.blogspot.com

You know how sometimes you’re like, “I wish I could just take a day or two off work…”?

Yeah, you don’t want shingles to be the reason. In case you were curious.

I won’t gross you out bore you with the details of all the great symptoms I’ve been experiencing for the past few days, but they involve a lot of “oh gross”es and “this huuuuuuuuuuuuurts.” Husband has been really patient with all the whining and the knowledge that he might come home to a bowl of generic Honey Nut Cheerios for dinner, along with a pile of dishes. Also a stir-crazy wife.

A short story from college that will set up the conclusion of this blog post: I was required to take a Human Development course as part of my general education, which was generally interesting given the fact that I wasn’t a Human Development major. We literally learned about the human life cycle from beginning to end, and I was all sorts of upset when I learned menopause actually lasts around 10-15 years. Please, Lord, let me die before that happens. 

I couldn’t help but turn to the Interwebs tonight after missing a second day of work and realizing there was little to no possibility of my going for the rest of the week, just so I could figure out what I might be dealing with. Sure, I had shingles when I was 6, but it was during the summertime and I didn’t have a job and it definitely sucked, but it was also relatively forgettable. As it turns out, my blistery rash (I know, that is too much information for you to be stomaching right now, but I promise it’s the last gross thing I’ll write…for now) might last up to five weeks.

Five. Weeks. 

This is like the menopause experience all over again.

Except what makes it really horrible is that I’ll eventually get menopause for real. Unless I die first. I certainly hope that happens.

Of course I won’t take five weeks off work — that would be ridiculous and also I would literally go crazy off my rocker and also Husband would eventually tire of Honey Nut Cheerios for dinner (although, maybe he wouldn’t — perhaps I should run a little test). I like to think the uncomfortable part will be over by next week. I’ll already be traveling to Oregon for my high school reunion with a blistery rash in July.

Yeah, that’s hot.

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