Karma is a Fickle Mistress

Once upon a time, my good friend Chris le'Cactus went and caught himself the shingles. Oh, the chuckles I had. How I laughed and laughed at his Herpes medication he was prescribed. How I giggled at the beers his doctor FORCED him to drink to relax. How I delighted in reading his wife's side of the story, which was honestly so funny I almost peed a little.

This finger? Pointed and laughed. It was great. My abs hurt after.

Guess who's TWO YEAR OLD has the mother-scratchin' shingles?

Never heard of a toddler with Shingles? Neither had I. It's actually sort of rare. They (they being the ER docs, of course; we had to get our monthly dose, you know?) were talking biopsy-esque talks when the specialist came in, checked her over, said she probably got exposed to the chicken pox somewhere along the line, grilled me when I said she hadn't, sneered at me for a second and then said, "Well, she'll be fine. See ya later."

With that, we are back home. With the son-of-a-nutcracker-shingles. Which really aren't bothering her all that much. But me? Yeah, it totally bothers me that my kid's hand looks like it has 4th degree burns. I wonder if Chris' doctor would prescribe ME some beer.

Whatd'ya think? Guinness in my Sippy Cup? Does kinda have a ring to it.....