At least it wasn't herpeghonnosyphilaids

"Mr. Whale Cancer!" she pronounced loudly from her window at the student health center. I ambled sheepishly over to her window to receive my prescription and get home as fast as possible. I try to leave doctor's offices with as much dignity as possible, but the student health centers really does not seem to go along with my plans.

The terms "discreet" and "tact" were not in this woman's vocabulary as she seemingly screamed "Here is your prescription for Valtrex. Do you understand all the instruction and possible complications?"

In shock, I was unable to produce a sound. The other 10 students in the room varied in response to a light gasp to audible laughter. I recovered, told her I understood, took my medication and turned to face the jury of my peers.

Let's back up a second ... what brought me to this point?

So on Friday I noticed some little red bumps on my left hip that were not itchy but were annoying. In all they were nothing too major. I happened to be seeing a team doctor about the cast currently on my arm and decided to mention the bumps. We both concluded they were either nothing serious or maybe some curious poison ivy. I went about my life.

On Saturday the "poison ivy" had spread and increased in itchiness. On Sunday I woke up and was unable to walk properly. The outside of my hip felt like it had been filled with play dough that had been infused with death spikes. My groin felt like someone had replaced the smooth hip joint with sandpaper. I immediately called the head trainer. He told me to enter student health as soon as I could on Monday.

I entered student health perfectly sane, but in immense pain. The doctor took one look at my groin and hip and told me "Well, I know this isn't the first time you have had this before!" My flawless answer was a blank stare. She decided to keep playing his game and told me "You have Herpes." My lack of amusement and general mistrust of the doctor apparently became obvious at this point and she clarified by saying "Shingles ... you have shingles, which is chicken pox that has come out of hibernation in your spinal cord. It is a type of herpes virus."

This made much more sense and I nodded, though I still hated her. This hatred would rise again in 3 ... 2 .... 1...

"You want an AIDS test?" were, honest to God, her next words to me. Which, even if you can guarantee yourself 100% that having AIDS is an impossibility in your life, still garners an increase in heart rate and takes five years off your life.

"Excuse me?" I replied.

"Well, shingles in someone so young only occurs in times of great stress or impaired immune system ... or if you are just susceptible. Are you under stress?"

I replied no and that I would pass on the AIDS test thank you very much. She pushed the AIDS test to the point I think she received money for each test administered. I declined. She finally gave up and told me to come back if the shingles persisted for longer than a month.

That led me to my prescription fiasco and me staring at the now very curious faces before me. "I have shingles, not what you think," I calmly stated. One bastard actually said, "Riiiiiiiiight." So I lifted up my shirt and lowered a bit of my waistband to show him. That got the "Oh sick ... fine, fine shingles, whatever" response I wanted and I gimped off home.

I spent the next few weeks on the couch, failing to get relief from Vicodin (House is a liar, that shit is bunk), and nursing my shingles and casted arm. It cleared up in about 3 weeks and I don't have AIDS. I do have a great hatred for student health and that doctor though. Freaking idiot.

Shingles ... just one of the many fun things my body has decided to do to my health. Major props go out to my mom for making me more susceptible to shingles by having shingles herself when pregnant with me (though I guess that is my fault) and my dad for also having gotten shingles when he was younger. Shingles, bringing families together one horribly painful dermatome at a time.