Go ahead and make a mental note of this. Actually, scratch that, pull a pencil and paper out, and make a large note that you can tape up somewhere, anywhere, that you might see it and remember.
The second you decide to announce to friends that “knock on wood, I haven’t gotten sick yet from any of the stuff going around”, that moment… that exact place in history, will be the moment a long dormant virus deep within your cells will begin to gather insurgents and stage what will become known as The Great Shingles Outbreak 2008.
Now, granted, I had an early diagnosis from my doctor (may I just say for the record that I absolutely love my doctor and would trust him with my very life?) and together, we formulated a counter-terrorist attack involving sending armies of antivirals bombing in on the insurgents thrice daily. So far, those loyal bastards have kept the virus from making it’s unsightly presence known on the small of my back, but deep within the muscles and tissues a war is being waged, and, boy howdy, do I feel it.
I’m grateful first to my doctor, and then secondly for my best friend for coming to watch the kids for me while I lied in bed and moaned softly to myself all day. I’m grateful for my wonderful husband who cooked dinner, bathed the kids, and put them all to bed last night, and then took the kids off to church tonight, allowing me to again, lay in bed, silently cursing the wretched virus into remission with some peace and quiet. I’m thankful to my mother, who also has come over and berated me for not resting (I know, I know, mom… I’m quite stubborn… sorry!) and then took over playing and caring for the kids (you have no idea how much I needed the rest yesterday afternoon).
I wish I could say that I feel better, but honestly, the virus is kicking my butt. I feel like a dead weight, with zero energy, not to mention the hurts-like-sunburn place on my back and the deep muscle aches underneath. I want so desperately to feel better, to be able to clean the house (it currently looks as though a tornado swept through, leaving sippy cups, dirty diapers, and random plastic toys strewn about), and most of all, to be able to play with my children without feeling as though I’d collapse from sheer exhaustion.
All that to say… be careful what you brag about… because you never know what lurkes around the corner.
