Journal of a Living Lady #139
Nancy White Kelly
Laughter is contagious. So is chicken pox. The first is delightful. The other dreadful. Most of us have had chicken pox. I remember when Charlie had it. He was about six-years-old. He looked awful, ran a fever, and was quite ill. There was nothing funny about the erupting blisters all over his body.
Its kin disease, the shingles, isn’t amusing either. Shingles, I am told, is like chicken pox. It is a virus that seemingly stays in remission until your immune system is compromised. I’ve personally known grown men who cried from the pain. It isn’t supposed to be contagious, yet it appears quite regularly in our circle of friends.
One man walked into a doctor's office and the receptionist
asked him what he had. He said, "shingles." She took down his name,
address, and medical insurance number and told him to have a seat.
Fifteen minutes later a nurse's aide came out and asked him what he had. He
said, "shingles." So she took down his height, weight, and complete
medical history. She told him to wait in the examining room.
A half hour later a nurse came in and asked him what he had. He said
"shingles." So she gave him a blood test, a blood pressure test, and
an electrocardiogram. Then she told him to take off all of his clothes and wait
for the doctor.
An hour later the doctor came in and asked him what he had. He said,
"shingles." The doctor said, "Where?" He said,
"outside in the truck. Where do you want them?"
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