Waking once or twice a night to let the dog out to wee is enough to make you feel pretty tired. And I’ve let Nora dictate the night-time timetable for longer than I meant to because my decision-making at two and three in the morning isn’t great. So, perhaps it’s not surprising that I have been feeling exhausted.
I was disappointed and cross with myself. Cross with the interminable inactivity of being stuck inside the house most of the time, cross with my decision to have a dog that was clearly wrong and was stopping me getting out and seeing films, art, theatre and friends, and living, basically, now that I am to all intents and purposes, free. I kept thinking I must pull myself together and stop being so wet, but just couldn’t make myself feel more positive.
Then I got a sore throat that vanished quite quickly, followed by some little stabbing pains and one of those unscratchable, unplaceable itches that drive you mad. After three or four days, I realised I also had a bit of a rash, a definite itch now, and that wearing a bra had become uncomfortable because the skin on my ‘trunk’ (envisage elephant) was so tender. Sorry. Too much information.
When a friend said that a mutual friend had got shingles, I was curious and looked up the symptoms. Bingo, self-diagnosis.
The Girl kept telling me I should go to the doctor but the NHS Choices website seems enough to me, considering this is a mild case of a condition for which there’s no treatment. People have mentioned anti-virals but really, it’s only slightly irritating and I dislike taking unnecessary medication. I’ll visit the GP if it doesn’t improve in a while.
Now that I know that I’m actually not perfectly well, I can stop blaming myself for ‘not coping’ (I have been), give myself some TLC (I haven’t been), so that I get better quickly and can make the most of Nora’s puppy days once we can go out for walks next week.
And yes, I know she will most likely just park her bottom on the pavement and not want to walk. But that can be another moan, another day.