Shingles, a nasty little blot on the human form not to mention a painful one.
It comes from childhood chicken pox, where the virus leaches into the nervous system and remains dormant until triggered. It then multiplies and travels along the nerves to the skin and erupts into blisters.
Usually the rash and blisters appear around the waist and on one side of the body but it can appear on the face and head. The pain is intense, throbbing and keeps on going for weeks or months. There are complications of light sensitivity, flulike symptoms, adominal pain, diarrhoea, chills, fever, swollen glands or joint pain, headache, confusion and drowsiness.
Researchers believe physical and emotional stressors weaken the immune system and contribute to the onset of the disease. If it hits the eyes, there is the danger of drooping eyelid, loss of eye motion, corneal ulcers and vision problems. If it goes into the ear, bad bad news.
Guess who has Shingles? Not me, thank the Great Goddess but mother. Doc Marvin noticed a small scaley patch on her forehead and sent for the proper medication at once. She didn't remember having Shingles before but me, being the file for all things Mother, rang the surgery to tell them when and how severe. It's really weird that on Tuesday when I was there I was telling her about Shingles and the new treatments and what causes it.
Annie Joyce of the glass cutting voice, dying beside her because the shit doctor wouldn't do anything.
New roomie (2 died in the last 6 weeks) is not only a sleep talker but if she wakes up, she walks and Mum's been ringing the bell for the nurse in charge. I did my block and told mum to let the woman fall over.
Old roomie's memory is now so bad she can't remember if day is night or if she had dinner. Middle of the night and she's asking mum to ring the bell because she hasn't been fed. She did have her own bell but they disconnected it. She then used the bed up and down control instead until she upped it too much and slid out onto her ample backside causing midnight mayhem.
The lovely tea lady, who has been giving mum crumpets for supper and buying them out of her own pocket, was dobbed in by a snitching bitch on staff when it was none of her business. Guess who was extremely upset on hearing about this and stressed out that a friend was in trouble.
The old girl also has congestion in the chest, another complication and her immune system isn't the best. Don't talk about nutrition, snitching bitch has been doing the cooking while fat useless chef has been off sick. The only time a meal was good was when an agency chef was brought in when snitching bitch was also off sick. I know why she really looked forward to that crumpet supper.
I noticed a spot on her face last week but put it down to some idiot bringing in flowers with pollen when I've repeatedly told them she's allergic to pollens. And I noticed how drowsy she was during the afternoon and since joint pain is always with her, didn't take much notice when she said the new lifting machine was making it worse. I'll see her on Friday and I'm taking crumpets with me, with her name on the packet.
Just to round off the post, I'm going to kill the person who walked a camel along my nature strip last night, in the dark. It had to be a camel, it left enough crap to fertilize the entire Sahara Desert. There was hardly enough room to park the bin and not have to wade through it and I only just got the bin out before the storm hit.
And not a fecking piece of chocolate in the house. I tell you shredded wheatmeal biscuits do not de-stress. Tomorrow I shop and I'll be looking for the biggest piece of lemon meringue pie I can find. Speaking of tarts, anyone catch last night's Great British Bake Off? I tell you green-eyed Rob with the dark hair can bake my cookies any day and I thought I would just drool over the cakes.