Slightly off-topic, but I was thinking about this one today because Lin-Manuel Miranda has shingles.
And while I of course feel sorry for him–because by all accounts, shingles is a miserable illness–I’m also shocked and disturbed because I didn’t know it was possible to get shingles in your 30s. Lin is the same age I am; that means I’m susceptible too. Crap.
(Unless, of course, it only attacks obscenely talented and successful thirty-somethings, in which case I’m off the hook.)
Part of that is that he has to stay away from his new baby to avoid infecting him, which reminded me that the day I came down with chickenpox, when I was eight years old and in second grade, I went to a friend’s house after school, and there were a lot of other people there, including a lady with a new baby, and I unwittingly exposed all of them. I still feel a little guilty about that, even though it wasn’t my fault as I wasn’t symptomatic yet and didn’t even know I was sick. I never heard if the baby got sick or what happened after that. I sure hope everything turned out okay.
And as I was thinking about it, I realized that 1989 was not a good year for me health-wise, because it was only a month or two after THAT when I scratched my cornea. But that’s a story for tomorrow.