Vericella Zoster-Latin for "Bits of Itchy"

Developed some tender ribs a few days ago. No injury, no bruises, no marks. Just sore. It was getting worse, so I went to see my friendly nurse practitioner today.

She came in to the room, listened to me tell my tale, then asked me if I was under any stress lately. When I said “new job and home repairs”, she smiled and started typing in her little computer. She told me I have shingles. All of this, mind you, without checking under the hood, so to speak. She did look me over, afterwards, but shingles it is, gentle readers.

OK, first the gray in the beard, now this. I am 38 going on 83 apparently.

I made the mistake of looking shingles up on-line. Holy mother of scabs people. That’s nasty. Let’s hope I get the G rated version only. Please!

I should be careful to avoid children and adults who have not had the chicken pox. My wife: no. My son: No. So, it looks like an all expenses paid trip to Exile Island for me. I’ll be the one draped in ill-fitting strips of dirty white linen, lurching around waiting on hand-outs and cortisone from the charitable sisters at the Mission of Our Lady of Constant Itching.

The very thought that I may soon be forced to utter, “someone please rub ointment on me”, is repulsive and perversely exciting all at the same time.

A friend asked me if shingles were the same thing as rickets. That’s a no, there, Dr. Quinn, medicine woman. Bones are fine, thank you. That stuff will get around though. Before Wednesday my wife will get a call asking if there is anything they can do for us what with me being stricken with Cholera, Parvo, and hemorrhagic fever.

I wonder if I was at all contagious on my recent flight back from Chicago, you know, the one that had the kid with nuclear feet. Makes me smile thinking that menace to society might be both stinky and scratchy at the moment.

Stinky and Scratchy, sounds like a new prime time cartoon on Nickelodeon, Wednesdays at 8/7 central. I’ll have plenty of time to catch up on all the episodes while on Exile Island. Me, with my yuckiness and unapplied tube of ointment, knocking back prune juice-benefiber shots with the other itchy old farts.

Love it.