...when you can just go for blood tests?
Well, it seems my case of shingles is so mild that I actually don't have them. There's something wrong with how you earn a living when you'd rather have shingles than show up at work. Maybe not quite, but it's a coin toss.
The short story of the ongoing Health Caucus 08 is that my suspected case of shingles turned into not being shingles but then the doctor(s) were perplexed with some odd symptoms I was having (including numbness in my right arm), fevers, lethargy. I was ordered to the ER with a perscription and described as looking "fachada." My sister, Roni, has diagnosed it as Blogitis only to be cured by locking up my computer and throwing away the keyboard. That Roni.
Once in the ER, blood was drawn by an 80 pound resident. If I closed my eyes, I was certain that it was a 300 pound gorilla working the tubes. The ER said everything looked okay. Not so, says my internist the next morning. Come into my office this afternoon. It seems the results from the ER showed an extreme decline in my iron to the tune of about 30% drop in just one month. The doctor drew new blood and I had a day to again, imagine my children motherless, only to find out that the ER results were actually incorrect and I am fine. It's enough to raise your blood pressure and mine is holding steady at 100/60. As my mother would ask, "Are you sure you're breathing?"
Back to earning a living. Just in time to return to the office to a resignation; a splitting of accounts back into our offices in Manhattan and back with me into a newly formed department (so new, they don't even know what its purpose is yet) in Manhattan. I'm actually looking forward to being back in the city as it is definitely time for a change. Now if I could glean a few more details of the position, that might be good.
I wish I could be enthusiastic but I'm tired of earning a living and not really enjoying how it is I do that. But short of sitting home in our "playroom", making something artisitc (more specific than that, I can't be) and looking into our backyard, I don't think I'd be happy. Change of scenery of course takes care of that for a while.
Maybe in the meantime, my ship will come in. Boy do I sound wistful and pathetic or what? Maybe I should just make absolutely sure that I don't have shingles...