Did I Say "Hives?" I Wish. . . ! *
So the P.A. at Urgent Care asked me, "did you diagnose yourself?" Actually, I did. And I was right (-wish I had been wrong). Couldn't sleep last night because of the searing pain, and woke D.H. up around 3:45 a.m. to research "shingles" on the web. He had no idea what I was talking about, but I did, having read about it quite a while back (and knowing that my uncle had it, and he said it was...awful...). But I had a hunch about my symptoms, and (I'm really thrilled about this part) I was right: I have Shingles . Herpes Zoster. Dormant Varicella virus. Which just hybernated happily in my innocent, unsuspecting body from the time I had chicken pox as a wee child, waiting for the right moment to rear its ugly head--you know the moment--the one where you 1) have no income, and 2) have no medical insurance, and are 3) stressed to the gills --yes, that moment. All my initial symptoms, which at the time seemed totally unrelated and even nebulous, at that-