Last weekend we went down to our friend’s parents house in Connecticut for their annual July 4th party. Except “party” is really the grossest understatement you could assign to this gathering. There’s enough food there to feed a small army, as my mother would say, and probably enough alcohol to stock a neighborhood bar for a few months. It’s an extravaganza.
It seems like their entire town comes to this party every year. Last year they estimated about 250 people stopped by. This is a big deal. And the “Boston crew,” as our friend’s old college buddies are called, love coming to this event. It’s such a treat. A treat filled with filet mignon burgers and dips in the pool and tumbles on the trampoline and beer. Lots and lots of beer.
So imagine my disappointment when, not 30 minutes after we arrived on the 3rd, I discovered some bumps on my neck (which I assumed were bug bites). They were bright red and gathered in a circle under my ear like they were having a little bug bite convention. No matter. The didn’t itch and didn’t hurt so I wasn’t too concerned about them. I figured they’d go away by the next day.
The next morning, the morning of the extravaganza, I woke up expecting to find the mystery bumps gone or at least looking a lot better. The first words out of my mouth when I opened my eyes were, “are they gone?” Andreas took peek. “Nope, still there.”
That day, I tried once again to employ my stellar practice when it comes to medical problems of ignoring them until they go away, but gradually they came to be accompanied by pain. Lots of pain. Impossible to ignore pain. Like, I can’t really turn my neck pain. PAIN. But there was so much food and margaritas and trampoline jumping going on that I was too distracted to worry.
Fast forward five days, the bumps are still there. The pain has come and gone but the bumps are still there. Just exactly what kind of bug crawled up my neck and bit me six times in a circle without my noticing, I want to to know!
So I go to the doctor. She asks if they itch. I say no, but they really f-ing hurt a whole f-ing lot.
“Have you been stressed out lately?” she asks.
“Um, YES.”
“Mhm,” she said, in that knowing, doctor-ly way. “Well, I’d say you have shingles.”
WHAT?! Shingles?! Seriously?!
As in, chicken pox, round two?
As in the disease that pretty much only affects people over the age of 50?!
Yes, she tells me. It is fairly uncommon in young healthy people, but can crop up when you’re under large amounts of stress.
This news was kind of an eye-opener for me. I mean, duh, I’m stressed. I know that. Between the wedding and the identity crisis stuff, there’s a lot floating around in my brain every day. But that’s why I’m seeing a therapist! That’s why I hired a wedding planner! I should be totally relaxed, right? Loose as a goose.
Well, apparently not. Apparently, I’m so stressed out that I GAVE MYSELF SHINGLES. After I told my mom, she called me later and said, “You know, I looked it up, and it’s really rare for someone in your age group to get this. Like, really, really rare. You’re a statistic!”
Thanks, Mom. Thank you too, Web MD.
Oh sweetie! No!! I’ve been stressed and have given myself hives before but this takes it to another level. Whatever is stressing you so much, I hope it goes away very soon!!
At about this time last year, I gave myself shingles too. I had just had a two wedding weekend, and was about to have another two wedding weekend. Needless to say, I was pretty stressed. It started with immense pain across my chest, and ended in lots of bumps. As soon as the bumps appeared, my hubby instantly knew what it was. I was 26 at the time, so the family doc didn’t believe it until the tests came back.
I hope you’re feeling better by now.