I try to avoid the doctors as much as possible. Not because he’s not a great guy (I mean, he never fails to convince my children that they have birds living in thier ears and that is funny) but because no matter how pleasant the visit, my wallet always comes away much, much lighter. But as I was laying awake all night on the verge of tears because OHMYGODMYBACKRIBCAGENECKFACE-ARE-ON-FUCKING-FIRE I decided that enough was enough and made an appointment this morning. (Another great thing about my doc. He must have flagged my file with a “crazy bitch” sticker, because they always get me in pronto.) And as it turns out, my rib is fine. A little bruised, but well on its way to 100%. The sonofabitch causing me so much agony? Shingles. Motherflipping Shingles.

I actually noticed the itching before I noticed the rib swelling but, I’d been working and sweating and very very dirty so I chalked it up to circumstance and figured the fact that an ugly rash was appearing in the very same spot that was causing me so much pain was just a co-wink-ee-dink. Because I’m smart like that. Then, Saturday the rash got worse and showed up on my back, exactly on the other side of my affected front rib. Odd. Still, I made no connection. It was only when I went in today and mentioned offhandedly “Oh and I have a really itchy rash right where it hurts” that everything sort of clicked.

So, its anti-virals and steroids for me. Hopefully those will kick in soon and I can stop feeling like I want to tear someone’s liver out with my teeth. And since I just spent two hours waiting in Target becuase they messed up my prescription TWICE, I feel this afternoon would be best spent in bed with a bottle of whiskey to dull the pain. I’m kicking it old west style. Yee haw!