Dear Liza,
It has been just about a month since I have posted a blog. While we were in Bordeaux on our tour around France, I got sick and was diagnosed with shingles. Yep, shingles, there on the right side of my face. Ghoulish, huh?
Being sick is never fun, but being sick in a country where you barely know the language and have no contacts, personal vehicle or knowledge of how things work is terrifying.
I was lucky to be traveling with Grandpa Nelson and Auntie Bridgett. Grandpa is a genius at transportation systems, internet apps and reservations. Bridgett knows enough French to ask the right questions, pays attention to details, and is a firm, gentle caregiver. Between them they got me to emergency rooms, got our travel insurance activated, picked up the right medications and kept me fed.
Since fighting the shingles virus left me very feeble and nearly blind in one eye, Grandpa made sure there were wheelchairs at the train stations and airports across France and in Amsterdam. I rode around like a dippy Cleopatra, grateful for all the help but not really aware of much that was going on.
The highlight of the trip was that during our stay in Amsterdam, you and your family came to visit! We had a few hours of silliness and love before I was exhausted. Thanks to your parents for making the long trip!
Once we got back to Portland, my doctors appreciated all the care I had received in France. My ophthalmologist was pleased that the shingles hadn’t gotten into my eye, but merely swollen and numbed a bunch of the nerves, which should go away eventually.
Then there are the meds for the ‘next stage’. After the virus has gone into remission (apparently it never really goes away) there is weird nerve pain that sticks around, for weeks or even months.
And that is where I am now. My general health is improved to the point that I can walk around the park, make art, and cook dinner. I still need meds to sleep, because the prickly nerve pain is always there, hovering behind my eye. I also must not expose myself to direct sunlight, as that can re-activate the virus, so I wear a big scarf and carry a parasol when we go out walking. Here is my self-portrait.
So, life’s not normal yet, but progress is being made.
Love,
Grandma Judy
Dear Liza 