As I lay in bed last night, in pain, starting my sixth week of shingles, something wonderful happened. A god moment, if you will.
I started feeling this strange back pain at Christmas. We were over at some of Angie’s in-laws house and I just could not get comfortable. I was in a dull pain, nothing terrible. I wanted to sit and rest, but couldn’t find a comfy spot. I was tired for no reason.
A day or two later in the shower, I noticed something on my skin. One glance from Ang decided shingles. I went to prompt care, got a prescription, and started working from home.
Two more doctor visits, and hundreds of dollars later, despite insurance, here we sit. The physical rash is all but got. The internal pain remains. My brain protects me in a way that I don’t remember what the last phase felt like. I am really only aware of where I am with the pain.
I am grateful to remember how it all started, so I can be vigilant if I feel that again, but the in-between phases are a blur. The current phase has me googling things like, what does nerve damage feel like? And, what does nerve damage from shingles feel like? I live in a very visual world with computers and emails and gifs. It felt strange to try to find something that probably didn’t have a picture and a meme to go with it.
So last night, when I was laying in bed, feeling this burning stabby internal pain that happens in waves like contractions, this experience pops into my head. When Isabella was very small, probably toddler age, she got some kind of bump on her butt that was causing her a lot of pain. Today I don’t remember what it was, some kind of little infection, maybe kind of like a spider bite. We saw it and she complained about it, so we took her to the doctor.
At the doctor, they were going to drain it or pop it or something. They knew it was going to be painful. She was young enough that they didn’t think she would lay there on her own. I was tasked with laying on my back on the exam table and holding her to my front. I’m laying there, holding her to my chest, telling her everything is going to be okay. When they did whatever they did, her whole body shook like an intense shiver in pain. She yelped out and then started crying.
I held her tighter as she squirmed. I cooed and hushed her and said things like, it’s over now. Or, there there, that’s better. It’s gonna get better now. I held her till she started to calm down. It was a very intense experience as a mother to be that close to my child and feel that kind of raw pain. I was experiencing her pain as well as my own holding her through it. My poor baby.
One of my therapists one time told me to talk to myself as if I were talking to my daughter. I instantly burst out in tears. I was not talking to myself anything like I spoke to my daughter. I would never speak to her the way I spoke to myself.
Last night laying in bed, I dialed in to that feeling as a mother, holding my child on the exam table, only the child I was holding was me. I remembered the shivering intense pain and the ability to hold her tighter and tell her everything was going to be okay. I remembered those words from the therapist. Everything is going to be okay. This can’t last forever. There there. Shhhhh. I know. I know.
I’m so tired of this pain. I went back to the doctor this week for a physical. I have gained weight as a result of my inactivity. I can’t be out and about for long before the pain creeps in more and more. And I haven’t worn a bra since Christmas! I hate it. I miss my frickin’ bras. I am certain that my boobs will sag more after this experience and I don’t want saggy boobs! I have worn a bra my entire life to prevent that before it’s rightful time! Bah! I can’t even have my therapy cat on my chest without pain!

There there. Shhhhh. Everything is going to be okay. I have you. I am holding you. I feel your pain and I will not leave you through it. I will help you take care of yourself. I will speak kindly to you and help you continue to ask for what you need. I will advocate for you at work and be gentle with you at home. I will not call you lazy. I will be patient with your recovery. I will not make excuses for you but help you stand in your truth. I will be frustrated with you but I will not let you lose heart or hope. I will help you cut back on spending to rebuild your financial cushion. I will help you reel in the crazy with the upcoming wedding. Finances, planning, details, and I will help you remember to enjoy the process. I will help you manage the stress, not deny it. I will see you through your recovery process and help you back into an more active life when you are ready. I will hold space for you. You are doing a really good job with something that you have never been through before. I love you with my whole heart.
Pretty sure I fell asleep quite quickly after that.
















