Nearly everyone around me is coughing, hacking, coping with runny noses and sore throats, battling the flu or a stomach bug.
And where once I would have been a lemming for fear of standing out, these days, I am my own person.
And it seems I have shingles.
Not the kind on the roof, although we have those too. I mean the virus resulting from the reactivation of the chicken pox virus that plagued me many years ago. (I still have the scars from where I didn’t listen to Mom’s instructions about not scratching.)
I’m lucky; it’s a pretty mild case centered around my right hip and lower back. It’s causing some discomfort and a little hitch in my walk, but I figure if I wear the right heels, no one will be the wiser.
I’m not contagious and while I should keep a lid on too much exertion, the doctor says, I can go about my normal activities while the virus runs its course. I just need to listen to my body, make sure I rest when I need to, eat right and all that other good stuff I keep trying to be better about.
I was more than a little disappointed that she didn’t prescribe chocolate, but what can you do?
Perusing the web (I shouldn’t, I know), I was struck by two sobering bits of information: A great deal of information about shingles is found on senior health sites (sigh) and they all agree that stress triggers it.
Stress? What stress?