God, it's awful. Like worse than when I was 13 and sunburned my shoulders at an all-day outdoor concert and my shoulders became two giant blisters and didn't heal for weeks and were so sensitive afterwards that anything touching my shoulders felt like shards of glass being drug across my skin. Like for months afterwards.
This is worse than that. By a lot.
I'll spare you the details but I will say feeling like you're constantly being impaled in the ribs and on through to your spine by a searing hot butcher knife while unable to wear a bra because the location of said shingles is right on your bra line under your right boob and still having to, you know, raise babies and corral animals (because OF COURSE we still have that puppy on top of our usual menagerie) and generally survive day to day, it's not fun, despite the prescription strength painkillers.
Shingles. The hell.
The next couple of weeks are crazy with end of the year business for both Kyle and Kiedis and doctor's appointments for all the peoples plus figuring out what to do with this puppy, so if I drop off again it's probably due to that and not the shingles.
But, you know, stranger things.