"The hardest part about breaking out in shingles just as you think you're healing from severe radiation burns is that you cannot predict your level of pain from hour to hour." -Mary Murray, Jan-2012

"The hardest part about breaking out in shingles just as you think you're healing from severe radiation burns is that you cannot predict your level of pain from hour to hour." -Mary Murray, Jan-2012

My last blog entry, January 5, seems like months ago, not 17 days ago.

In retrospect, the first indication of shingles appeared January 8 -- a rash in the area of greatest vulnerability from radiation damage, my armpit.

The following day Greg and I saw my radiation-oncology doc and discussed issues outlined in my January 5 blog. (While I mentioned that day that I had a new rash in the armpit, we all glossed over it as I thought it may have come about as a result of trying a new -- more comfortable? NOT! -- bra the day before. I was told radiation pain might go on for several months and was awarded more, stronger pain meds. At last, Rush Limbaugh and I have found common ground.

The rash grew angrier and covered more area as days went on, traveling to the middle of my back. So now I had pain in front AND back. Getting comfortable in a chair or bed? -- out of the question.

It was a rough week, at the end of which Greg STRONGLY URGED me to see my dermatologist.

Shingles.

Shit.

Shingles!

Already armed with various levels of painkillers, dermatologist added a med to fight the shingles virus and Neurontin (which I stopped after just one tiny pill. Talk about a way to get whacky!).

Memories of the week following the shingles diagnosis are sketchy. Lots of notes around the house about when I took my last pain pills, which kind, how much, etc. Sometimes there was drug-induced bliss and an exaggerated sense of humor. Often there was too much fog to play "Words with Friends" or make a coherent grocery list. Most of the tme, I stayed safely out of harm's way ASLEEP.

I have now had my followup with the dermatologist. He says I can come out of quarantine in another week. Rash has gone through dramatic changes, appearance-wise. Pain can be anticipated to continue for some months.

While I'm ever so grateful the pain doesn't only come, it also goes, the coming and going is unpredictable -- keeping me from planning my day much less making any longer-term plans. What comes comes, what happens happens.

One minute I'm ready to tackle a project, the next minute I'm in bed waiting for pain pills to kick in. The need to drive a motor vehicle poses a challenge and considerable planning, to the best of my ability.

Thanks to all who haven't forgotten about me during unusual absences from Facebook, e-mail, The Y, and coffee shop meetings. May life become more manageable again one day and may the lessons I'm being taught serve to make me a better person in some small way going forward.

Kudos to Greg Koerber for helping me stay afloat as we tread water waiting for the tsunami to subside.