June 22, 2005
Yeah. That's right. The Health Fairy. And I'm going to rip her goddamn wings off the next time I see her.
Last Tuesday morning (the morning before Trade Journal Nightmare Day) I woke up with a very strange and painful purple rash taking up most of my right hand. Said purple rash was not unlike a port wine stain birthmark, only I don't have a port wine stain birthmark, so I just went about my daily business of trying to survive the corporate world.
On Thursday, the rash was still there, and still painful.
On Friday, blisters started forming a la chemical burn (which I assumed was what happened). And strangely Angus' right hand started getting covered in a thick purple rash.
By Sunday, the blisters were popping.
Tuesday morning the skin on my hand started coming off in sheets, and Angus' formed blisters.
It was time to see the doctor.
Tuesday afternoon I got an appointment with Dr. Henry, as my usual doctor is on holiday this week. I stroll into the office and read a two month old copy of Hello! magazine. When my name is called, I go into his office.
Dr. Henry is sitting on his chair, and I am surprised to see that Dr. Henry is Hispanic. There are not a lot of Hispanics in Whitney Houston, after all. And even more unsettling is the fact that Dr. Henry looks amazingly like the Hispanic character from The Simpsons, the one who is always dressed up in the Bee costume.
"Hola!" calls Dr. Henry cheerfully. I resist the urge to ask him to say "Ay Carumba!" I will not play into stereotypes. "What is the problem?" he asks.
I hold out my hand and sit in the chair next to him. "I have a bad rash." I say, feeling silly. He asks me many questions: Have you been gardening? Using any new chemicals? Feeling bitter and sexually harassed in the workplace? Eating oranges and then lying in the sun? Only one of those are true, and that one wouldn't give me a rash, just a nervous disorder, so he has a quick answer.
"It is the herpes." he says, looking at me.
I look up sharply. "What?" I say weakly.
"Herpes. It is the herpes."
I start to cry. I know that herpes is a common affliction and that the stigma is no longer necessary or warranted, but out of all the illnesses I can think of in my life, herpes is one of the ones I fear the most (likely due to a chick I worked with in a bookstore who had them. The horror stories she would tell! The sheer unmitigated nightmare she would talk about! So...um...yeah thanks, N. You've made a quivering little herpes-fearing mouse out of me).
"I don't understand!" I wail. "I'm in a long-term relationship! I can't have the herpes! I've always been so careful!"
He looks panicked. "No, no, no! Is no genitals!"
I pause in the weeping. "What?"
"Is no genitals! Is no like genital herpes! Is not from sex!"
I am starting to calm down now. "What do you mean?"
"Is a virus, like shingles." He whips open a book of people who are in various forms of putritifcation and rotting from any amalgamation of highly unpleasant disease categorized A-Z. He finds the Happy Herpes section and shows me, amongst pus-ty penises and virulent vaginas, what herpes blisters look like.
"Mine didn't look like that." I say with relief. I am relieved. It is not the herpes. It cannot be the herpes. "I don't have the blisters anymore, although Angus-that's my boyfriend-he does."
"Can your boyfriend come here now? Seeing his blisters will help my diagnosis." asks Dr. Henry. This will be popular. Angus just loves him a slice of Doctor visit.
I call Angus and he warily agrees to come up. A slice of doctor visit is one thing, but if it comes needle a la mode there will be problems. As we wait for Angus Dr. Henry and I chat. I decide I like Dr. Henry (although I now have to work to not call him Dr. Herpes). There is something good and wholesome about Dr. Henry, plus it's hard not to like someone who was named the same name as my childhood crush Henry Thomas (I'll always be right here for you too, baby. Always).
Angus comes in and shows his hand to Dr. Henry. He chooses the seat closest to the door and this amuses me-if he tried to do a runner I think I could take him. Rug burns would be involved, but considering we're in the surgery I imagine there is a waterfall of First Aid cream in the back.
Dr. Henry looks at the hand and looks at me. He nods. Dr. Henry and I briefly are in cahoots about my tragic illness. Angus looks at me.
"Dr. Henry thinks we have the herpes." I say grimly. Angus looks up in shock.
"Is the herpes." Dr. Henry agrees sagely.
"We have the Hand Herpes." I reiterate sadly. I wonder when it will go from Dr. Henry's Spanglish "the herpes" to "herpes", but maybe we need more time to get familiar with our affliction. Maybe buy it a glass of wine to loosen it up or something.
"Is like the shingles." explains Dr. Henry. "Is a virus. No from sexual contact, just contact."
Angus looks at his hand with horror. "What is the most common way of getting it?" He looks as though amputation might be his favorite option.
Dr. Henry considers. "Most common way is to come in contact with someone recovering from the chicken pox. Know someone with the chicken pox?"
I resist the urge to ask him about saying that "Ay Carumba!" quote again. I don't know anyone with chicken pox, and if I did, I'd bitchslap them. I tell him I don't know anyone. He sighs, shrugs, and prints off a prescription. "Is so unusual for two people to have the same rash in the same place!" he said, looking at us. "I have never seen this before! And you didn't start the rash at the same time! I wish I had my camera!"
Yes. That's right. We're medical marvels. Us and our identical Hand Herpes, we are making history. Look for us in a medical journal near you, only there will be a black box over our eyes and we will be repelling 9th graders during a boring study hall for the rest of our lives.
"You happy? Healthy? Eat good meat?" Dr. Henry asks us.
"I'm a vegetarian." I say.
Dr. Henry looks at me in horror, as though me and the Hand Herpes are sprung from the same virus. Then he looks at Angus. "You are the vegetarian too?"
Angus looks at him. "Never!" he swears, straightfaced.
"Is no good! You must eat the meat! The steak!" he says, looking as though the entire beef nation is mourning the fact that I've surrendered my A1 belt. He looks at Angus and hands the prescription to him. "You. You have early stages of the dermatological herpes. You can be helped, but her? She too late. Pills will not do any good now. Helen, you will have the rash for another week or so, but Angus? Angus we can help."
Great. So I instigate the doctor visit and I'm the hopeless herpes cause.
Angus looks at the paper. "I can drink red wine while taking this medication?"
"Absolutely." says Dr. Henry.
"And eat red meat?"
"All the meat you can get!" Dr. Henry crows, looking at me. I roll my eyes.
"My Hand Herpes and I thank you." I say, standing. "Is this contagious? Should we have a Hazmat suit?"
"No contagious. No problem." Dr. Henry says as he reaches for a jar of anti-bacterial hand gel and slathers it on. Bastard.
"If it is no gone in two weeks, you come back in and give me a hard time." Dr. Henry says kindly.
"I will!" I say. "And I will come bearing vegetables!"
Angus and I take his prescription and he goes and fills it. Later, surfing at home, he finds out that the prescription Dr. Henry has asked for the type of anti-viral medication that is also used for the genital herpes. This, while he was making small talk with the cute chicks at the pharmacy.
Better strike those babes off the Helen Replacement List, sweetheart.
We make Hand Herpes jokes the rest of the night, only if anyone asks, we have decided to say that we have shingles.
Yeah, that's it.
Shingles.
-H.
PS-I am back in the Lion's Den today in London, dealing with the same place I was one week ago. But some things may have changed. Some things may (hopefully) be different. I have taken a few steps of action about what was said to me/about me on Wednesday. I'll update tomorrow on what has happened and if it was successful or not, and where I am going from here.
I am still so scared you wouldn't believe it.
And I am still very, very down about it all.
Posted by: Everydaystranger at
07:48 AM
| Comments (24)
| Add Comment
Post contains 1555 words, total size 9 kb.
Posted by: Margi at June 22, 2005 11:26 AM (nwEQH)
Posted by: Margi at June 22, 2005 11:27 AM (nwEQH)
Posted by: abs at June 22, 2005 12:32 PM (+gJH8)
Posted by: RP at June 22, 2005 01:06 PM (LlPKh)
Posted by: ~Easy at June 22, 2005 01:07 PM (cgRzO)
Posted by: Erin at June 22, 2005 01:37 PM (BuifH)
Posted by: scorpy at June 22, 2005 01:42 PM (M39/K)
Posted by: Annette at June 22, 2005 02:08 PM (OGuOv)
Posted by: mac at June 22, 2005 03:02 PM (4sb5H)
Posted by: suz at June 22, 2005 03:03 PM (GhfSh)
Posted by: Teri at June 22, 2005 04:34 PM (K7jOL)
Posted by: That Girl at June 22, 2005 04:38 PM (gu1Ur)
Posted by: Ms.Q at June 22, 2005 05:20 PM (WUM14)
Posted by: paolo at June 22, 2005 05:46 PM (XBRVY)
Posted by: dani at June 22, 2005 05:47 PM (iJe7b)
Posted by: stinkerbell at June 22, 2005 05:55 PM (ZznPv)
Posted by: emily at June 22, 2005 06:46 PM (QD7++)
Posted by: Light & Dark at June 22, 2005 07:13 PM (+Ds2b)
Posted by: ilyka at June 22, 2005 07:59 PM (DD9sk)
Posted by: butterflies at June 22, 2005 10:46 PM (M1F7A)
Posted by: Ith at June 22, 2005 11:40 PM (/Kiii)
Posted by: Marie at June 23, 2005 01:08 AM (DIJ9I)
Posted by: sporty at June 23, 2005 03:04 AM (56gUM)
Posted by: Simon at June 23, 2005 05:20 AM (FUPxT)
35 queries taking 0.0542 seconds, 148 records returned.
Powered by Minx 1.1.6c-pink.