Two weeks ago, I awoke with some bug bites or spider bites on my face where my cheek normally rests on the pillow. The next morning there were more, and the third morning there were more still. By Friday, the blemishes on my face were feverish and very painful. Through the weekend and Monday, the accompanying headache, nausea, and weakness kept me in bed all day.
By this time, of course, I had abandoned my familiar bed and favorite pillow for one of the children's abandoned beds. Earlier in the week, I had thought of getting some advice on this board about whether to seek medical attention, but a proper lady does not relish admitting in public that she is sharing her bed with unwelcome visitors. I wish I had.
On Tuesday of last week, I went to work and faced my keyboard and monitor making desultory motions. Meanwhile, the feverishness of my face continued and the blemished area felt like I'd been punched by a prize fighter as well as stung by a hive of hornets. On Friday, when a bite opened up and ulcerated, it was the last straw. I made an appointment to see the doctor on Monday. What sort of critters were these?
It is shingles. When I recovered from chicken pox nearly sixty years ago, the virus didn't die. It hid inside the nerves of my face and erupted in a fairly mild outbreak of shingles. If I had contacted my doctor at once when the "bug bites" first appeared, it could have been treated, but I let it go long enough that the outbreak cannot be successfully treated.
In about six months I'll get a vaccine that will probably prevent future outbreaks. You should get it, too, if you ever had chicken pox or the chicken pox vaccine and you are over fifty.
Also, if you get a series of "bites" after the age of fifty, call the doctor before you feel like Mohammad Ali gave you a sucker punch, then stung like a bee.
My face is starting to clear up and the other symptoms have diminished although the tingling and itching continue. I have decided on a name for the scar that will remain from the blemish that prompted me to call the doctor -- Zora.
By this time, of course, I had abandoned my familiar bed and favorite pillow for one of the children's abandoned beds. Earlier in the week, I had thought of getting some advice on this board about whether to seek medical attention, but a proper lady does not relish admitting in public that she is sharing her bed with unwelcome visitors. I wish I had.
On Tuesday of last week, I went to work and faced my keyboard and monitor making desultory motions. Meanwhile, the feverishness of my face continued and the blemished area felt like I'd been punched by a prize fighter as well as stung by a hive of hornets. On Friday, when a bite opened up and ulcerated, it was the last straw. I made an appointment to see the doctor on Monday. What sort of critters were these?
It is shingles. When I recovered from chicken pox nearly sixty years ago, the virus didn't die. It hid inside the nerves of my face and erupted in a fairly mild outbreak of shingles. If I had contacted my doctor at once when the "bug bites" first appeared, it could have been treated, but I let it go long enough that the outbreak cannot be successfully treated.
In about six months I'll get a vaccine that will probably prevent future outbreaks. You should get it, too, if you ever had chicken pox or the chicken pox vaccine and you are over fifty.
Also, if you get a series of "bites" after the age of fifty, call the doctor before you feel like Mohammad Ali gave you a sucker punch, then stung like a bee.
My face is starting to clear up and the other symptoms have diminished although the tingling and itching continue. I have decided on a name for the scar that will remain from the blemish that prompted me to call the doctor -- Zora.
