state of things

There's a painful, angry cluster of tiny blisters on the heel of my hand that look like a spider bite. I'm heading out to do some errands, and one of them is stopping at the walk-in clinic across the street to get a ruling on what this is and what to do about it.

Looking up medical info on the web is like stepping into a big vat of Med Student Disease. I don't think this is a Brown Recluse bite. I don't think my arm is going to turn plaid and fall off. I do think it hurts, and that a real person who can look at it for real will have a better idea of what it is and what to give me for it.

I still have my insurance from my old job, but unfortunately it only covers me for doctors' visits in my old state. I'm covered for emergencies, and I think for prescriptions, but I'll have to do this one out of pocket. It's okay, though. I've gotten into this panicked penny-pinching mindset after having been forced into it for several months, but with the house finally sold, I have the resources to look after my health when I need to. If someone can help, it'll be worth it.

If I'm up to it, after, I'll get my hair cut (finally) and see about ordering prescription sunglasses -- two errands that I've been waiting for mall traffic to ease before attempting.

Other than the bite, I'm having a pleasant enough start to the year. Looks like I'll be having company visit next month, and I might be traveling to visit one of my closest friends soon after. There's local stuff to get involved with, starting thursday and keeping us busy this weekend, and real honest local friends. The living room is almost clean enough for visitors, and the apartment feels roomy and comfortable again.

And now I'm off to take care of myself, and maybe treat myself afterwards. It's been a hard few months, but this is the prize we've had our eye on the whole while, and it seems to be well worth the trouble, so far. I'm glad we're out here. We needed this.

At least I'm not contagious.

The good news is, it's not a spider bite.

The bad news is, it's shingles (aka, adult chickenpox). It's funny because when we bought our condo 8 years ago, Matt got shingles from the moving stress, so now apparently it's my turn.

Shingles is not contagious the way chickenpox is. It occurs only among people who have already had chickenpox, triggered internally by extreme stress and the accompanying immune system weakness. The only way to catch it is to come into contact with the fluid from the blisters, and even then, it will not transmit shingles. It will transmit chickenpox to people who've never had it, and do nothing to people who have.

So at least I know that everyone I saw at New Years' should be safe, whether they had chickenpox as children or not. (whew)

And at least I know that there are no rogue spiders running around my apartment, and that my arm is not going to turn plaid and fall off. At least, not from this.

It's painful. Very. Treatment is to take pain killers and wait it out, so I guess I'll be doing that.

I'm really, really glad I got it seen to. From the way it stings, I was assuming it was a spider bite. I never would have guessed.