Well, the pox are here and they have attacked. While I am sure that I have a rather mild case compared to some people’s experiences with chicken pox as an adult, I am miserable nonetheless.
I did go and get a vaccine once I knew I had been exposed. And exactly 12 days after that, the first pox arrived. The tingling feeling and subsequent pop I heard when I mindlessly scratched my upper back set in motion the week from hell. On top of my own virus hell, Alex has been under the weather with back-to-back viruses that are complicated by ear infections and bouts of antibiotics which cause loss of appetite and diarrhea. So while I am forced to convalesce, I am also forced to play nursemaid.
Ten years ago I would have loved the chance to stay home from work with such an illness: forced bedrest, lounging around watching daytime T.V., eating popsicles and sleeping whenever I felt like it without a moment of guilt. But alas, the good times of such carefree days are long gone.
When I don’t work, I don’t get paid. When I am sick, someone has to pick up the slack at home and at work. I have responsibilities and when I can’t take care of my child because I a worthless wreck, then that just compounds the guilt. It’s important to note that I am married to the most unsympathetic person on earth when it comes to people being sick. Eric truly believes that everyone (except himself) can WILL themselves to be well, and that being on one’s deathbed is no excuse for falling down on the job.
So, alas, even though I have had the chicken pox since Monday, I did force myself to go to work for two days this week, but once they invaded my face and neck and arms, I couldn’t hide my shame and contagion anymore, and I am now forced to stay home until the last scab falls off. Charming.
All day yesterday I couldn’t figure out why my throat hurt so bad (I was at work) – so after the fifteenth Advil, I finally went to the bathroom and looked at my tongue and throat to find blisters up and down the tops and sides of my tongue. Gross and painful. And when they pop, oh Jesus have mercy on me.
There are a few on my scalp which are by far the fattest and the juiciest of the bunch. Because the skin on your scalp is so taut, these pox get very large and hurt like a mother. Same with the ones on my forehead. I am going to have some very nasty scars. Thankfully, I have finally come to terms with it and try to only scratch the ones that are hidden.
Oh can’t someone just put me out of my misery now?
Not to focus just on my pain, what is bothering me the most is how worthless I feel right now. I can’t really go anywhere since I scream “plague” and would send most people running in the opposite direction. I need to take Alex to the doctor tomorrow and I don’t want to infect anyone else, which I am certain that I have done inadvertently with my endless scratching.
Did I mention that the pox like warm, dark places? Yes, the fun never stops.
If you are one of those people who do not believe in vaccinating your kids: screw you asshole. If you haven’t had chicken pox and want to avoid a scratching, itching, hellish nightmare, go get the vaccine, otherwise, screw you asshole (that applies to myself as well.) Just imagine how cranky I would be had I not at least done that.
Here’s something for your to enjoy: