My husband has a brain tumor, and I guess the universe didn’t think that his cancer, my chronic back problem, life in our Repair-of-the-Month farmhouse, and being a writer in today’s frigidly cold writer’s market was enough to deal with. Along with the frenetic pace of my well-planned “simple holiday season that will be completely centered on the joys of the moment, the warmth of friendship, and gratitude to God for our many gifts”, a minor glitch has appeared: shingles. And I’m not referring to what’s on top of our roof, although I will be the first to admit that I am sorely (sorry, punsters) tempted to go up to said roof and take one large, grace-filled leap.
I just can’t believe it.
One minute, I’m reading lovely holiday newsletters from near and far, glowing with friends’ achievements and successes of 2013, and the next minute, all I can think of is “How the —- am I going to get the Caladril lotion onto my back? I can’t even see my back!” – although I’ve tried – and now I’ll have to add a visit to the optometrist to my “to-do” list.
Oh, it’s not that bad. I can get through this. Some errands and even traditions may have to be eliminated, like the thrill of World War III vehicular combat at the mall parking lot, as we humans near the joyous celebration of the birth of Christ. I still have some things to wrap up, and cards to write out – the boxed cards I was so smart to buy last January so “my soul would be totally in sync with a relaxing holiday spirit.” So much for living the Hallmark Made-for-TV life. And my husband? He will do what he can, which means helping me maintain my nutritional status via ice cream ingestion, probably as important a healing process as any. I believe I can hear the freezer door opening as I type.
My doctor assures me that shingles isn’t passed on by wrapping gifts with clean hands. But my mind works in mysterious ways, so the new box of 50 disposable gloves I just bought will come in handy, since I now consider myself on par with Typhoid Mary. (BTW, who names their kid that?) And our homemade Picasso Look-a-Like tree still needs to be strung with lights; the bulbs lay in wait, a task I can accomplish between other things related to aging and illness which the AARP magazine paints as quite charming and fulfilling. Charming and fulfilling? I have three words to replace that phrase:
Pass the gloves.
So sorry you have the Shingles. I had them a few years ago – they are not fun. Hope they go away soon so you can relax over the Christmas & New Year’s holidays. I enjoy reading your blogs. Hugs to you.
I plan to ply myself with snacks to drown out any discomfort. Thanks, friend!
Here again, I think I have neglected to look in the right place for the kind comments of friends. Ugh. Thank you, Nancy!!!!!
It always amazes me how people who are the most loving, peaceful, understanding, compassionate, etc., are afflicted with so much, yet are able to still look on the bright side through it all.
You, my dear friend are truly one of those people, who our Lord STILL smiles upon everyday through other ways, in which you can appreciate.
God bless you and, as always, much love.
Thank you. That’s the goal, but not always reachable at first. God bless you!
God bless YOU!
Shingle Bells, Shingle Bells, Shingles all the way…..
More Shingle Bell!
love this comment so much! xoxoxox