"Shingles Doesn't Care!"

24 August 2022

1078

R. Linda:

I don't know if you have had some of the same life experiences as I, but from time to time, as one jolts through life, there are momentous occasions when you see the high spots and a lot more of the low. There are times you aren't proud of your behaviour and wish you could go back and straighten it all out, but well . . . you can't. The damage can be irreparable and the best thing to do is to put it out of mind along with out of sight of said relative you had a scathing encounter with, and plod on through despite it all. 

However, that be easier said than done. I find I have dug deep graves for such memories, but they always seem to rise about the time I am ready to fall asleep. Yes, there I be heavy-lidded, the brain starts to get fuzzy to shut down when suddenly, out of the dark night a memory surfaces with a rapidity that only a machine gun can rival. You sit straight up, your heart pounding, a cold sweat surfacing, as it all comes flooding back like an awake nightmare of epic proportions. 

I had upsettingly found meself alone with the Dragon recently, and our relationship (IF we ever had one) has come to a head it has. Me Mam decided to take a plane back to Ireland to visit relatives. In truth, the Dragon Lady was getting on her last nerve and instead of going in the fall, she decided to abscond across the pond early. The wife promised to take the boyos camping in Maine with their cousins and her sister, a sort of a sister's trip away with kiddos in tow. Unfortunately, the Dragon doesn't like camping and I couldn't get away because of work.  I think it was an excuse for all of them to escape the Dragon's ire. 

I was so busy the first few days I didn't notice the itching Dragon. It wasn't until she spoke up and showed me the most horrible rash I'd ever seen! I packed her up, stuck her in the car, and drove off to the Casualty to have her checked out. Monkeypox was going through my brain and I wondered where she caught it. It turned out she didn't have monkeypox, she had a case of shingles!

I got her as fixed up as I could and to the chemists for what she needed and then home, all the while listening to her complain. I was sure it felt terrible, but I couldn't do any more than I had done and quite frankly, I just wanted to be away from the ooze. 

I waited on her hand and hoof I did. I was on me computer talking to the office after silently having delivered tea, toast, eggs, what have you to her ladyship. She, silently accepted it all giving me 'the face' which was a scrunched-up expression of irritable discomfort. I'd shake me head in commiseration and mouthed, "Shingles doesn't care," to which she would have liked to swat me like a fly if she could reach me. I know I should be more caring, but she drives me straight up a poll with her whining demands, and well she gets to me she does. 

When I was needing a little compassion on being laid up, not too long ago, I got none of that from her, instead, she was sarcastic, laughing, and being a royal pain in me arse. To give it back to her in small doses warmed my black heart a bit. I would never do any of this if Tonya was home and it would have been worse if me Mam was there because she and I get like two conspirators when it comes to the Dragon. It takes two of us to give her as good as she dishes out and she dishes it out, let me tell you!

Here is an example of the dishing out she does so very well. I had been on a particularly tricky FaceTime call when the old scales and wings summoned me by yelling my name so loud the person on the end of the line could hear her. He asked me if something catastrophic had happened. He was an unpleasant sort and was giving me a hard time and I thought to ask him if his indigestion, which he is prone to was kicking in, but I didn't. I told him to hold on I'd see what was going on, it was some accident outside me open window. 

I walked into the lounge to find old scales and wings sitting in a pile of blankets. As soon as she saw me she surfaced out of the blankets and started complaining the AC was too high and she was cold, AND the blankets were chaffing her shingled skin. This was not my fault. I had not even turned the AC on nor piled any blankets in her direction. 

"I am most anxious to oblige her ladyship in any way I can, BUT the shouting has to stop when I am on a business call which I be right at this moment," I said as nice as I could, which was very hard straining on me part. 

"Get these things off me and turn the AC down or off!" She barked.

"So that's how it is, eh?" I went to her trying to remove blankets to which she chided me I was scraping the shingles on her arm and me telling her for the hundredth time that "shingles doesn't care," and her getting angrier and angrier at yours truly. 

Blankets removed I threw them on an armchair and went to see about the AC. Yes, it was turned down to a chilly 30 degrees!!!

"I was surprised it wasn't snowing," I turned to her and said, as I switched it off.

"It was ungodly hot in here and YOU did not come when I called."

"You mean summoned." I corrected her snorting at me. "I have to work you know, I can't just drop everything and run in here."

She looked at me with something evil going on behind those slits of eyes. She slowly began wagging her dragon-like head and her lip curled. I knew something was coming and I wasn't going to like it. She drew in a long breath and clucked her tongue at me like I was an errant schoolboy. She let her eyes roam over me entire body like she was sizing me up as a meal. Finally, it came out: "Every time you are in my presence you look like you've been imbibing 'the drink' as you Irish call it. Don't you ever stop? Do you even drink in your sleep?"

WOW! I wasn't expecting that. I hardly ever have even a beer let alone drink the day through, day in and day out. Only in times of special revelry will I partake and she knew that! And the "Irish" slur well that was too much for even easy-going me to absorb.

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"  I challenged her. "I don't drink and you know it and even YOUR shingles know it and further even if I did, shingles doesn't care! Just because you're miserable doesn't mean I have to be!"

"Just look at you! Shirt and tie with pajama bottoms, if that's not a sloppy drunk I don't know what is." She hissed through her sharp dragon teeth.

"OH, MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS! I be on a tela-call I only need to look nice from the waist up! And why am I having this conversation with you?" I winced at the thought and she knew I was visibly affected.

She emitted a long rumbling chuckle after my strong denial in an attempt to up the stakes. Her eyes smouldered with something unreadable clueing me in she was only JUST getting started. I needed to nip this in the bud. I was too long away from my FaceTime call and needed to go back before me caller's indigestion got the better of him.

I should have turned on my heel and left her high and dry with no retort, but I hesitated a second too long. Yes, she had wound up as I half turned to leave and laid a curse upon me by saying in a low throaty dragon voice, "May Japanese beetles ruin your beloved tomatoes, may your hens get the staggers, your cistern start leaking, and may termites eat your foundation!"

I had to laugh. "Is that all you've got? You are a ruthless relative if ever there was one," and I walked out shaking me sanguine head. 

There on my computer screen was Mr. Indigestion looking like he was put out at being left alone. When he saw me he said in his clipped English accent, "A crisis in your affairs would appear to be precipitated?"

WHAT? I stared at him for a moment as I sat back down thinking about that.

"I heard the whole conversation, unfortunately. Most disturbing."

Oh, swell, I had explaining to do on my part that I didn't want to do. I sighed but I tried anyway, "I have a relative who's having a rough patch and she and I are like vinegar and oil, we just can't get it together. She has a case of shingles and I am doing me best, but that's not enough for her."

"That must be trying your patience. I quite understand I have a mother-in-law like that. There are times you have to take whatever they dish out with a grain of salt without losing stride. You have to plot and plan schemes to bring them down."

My head snapped up at that last. I looked at him really hard, did I hear what I think I did?

"Excuse me? Plot and plan schemes?" I asked puzzled he'd be so straight with me, me someone I didn't think he cared for?

"Well, yes, quite. My mother-in-law made me a dinner unfit for human consumption and that is what started my digestive problems. I know she did though she denies it. It was a bit naff it was." He said with some heat.

"Really? 

"Oysters it was, mottled oysters! Way out of their season."

He sounded as if he was reliving it.

"Oh . . . well I be sorry to hear that." I commiserated. 

"Could have killed me." He shook his head in memory and the memory was obviously not favourable. 

Reluctantly I asked him what revenge he extracted since it was obvious he did something.

He looked like a man caught in a dream as he told me he commandeered her birthday cake and spiked it with rum a liquor she couldn't tolerate. Inserted a turkey baster full of the offending drink and spiked the cake in several places. When he finished he smoothed the icing over so no one knew. When she cut it she thought it was rather moist, and when she took a big bite she nearly gagged. To this day he said she gags at the word rum and runs off to the water closet at the mention of cake. He looked rather proud of himself. He finished by saying how everyone seemed to enjoy the cake and got very happy. I bet they did.

"Rather harsh," I mumbled.

"I wouldn't worry about it if I were you."

For a fleeting moment I felt braced I did. But that feeling left as I realised my reality. 

"I be in the muddy soup I be, up to me chin." I was a little bit easier in my mind than I had been, but I knew I was still on shaky ground. 

"You can go kiss and make up," he said, and seeing I took that literally, he laughed. "No, no I don't mean smack on her and hug the life out of her, I mean tread lightly and be aware that your Nemesis is right behind you ready to pounce. In American terms 'watch your back'. All you need to do is get back in her good book and be done with it. Ignore it all like it never occurred."

"Easier said than done, but I'll give it a go."

"That's the spirit!"

And so we finished up our conversation on a better note and found we actually had quite a bit in common for an Irishman and an Englishman. But I couldn't sit in front of me blank screen all day, I knew I had to go back into the dragon's den. Talk about indigestion! 

I stepped back in and saw her sitting in an alert position, not lounging on the couch as was her way. I stepped in knowing she was ready with more barbs. I almost broke my face trying to get a smile up. 

"What is wrong with your face, it's all screwed up." She commented with quite a bit of disdain. 

"It is not screwed up, I am smiling at you with genuine concern."

To that, she laughed a belly laugh if ever there was one. I felt insulted but maintained a steady smile if you can call it that, my teeth grinding against each other in the process. I ventured further by addressing the she-dragon in what I hoped was a sympathetic tone.

"We need to get you in good nick, we do, and I'd be chuffed to do that if you are for it, otherwise we are headed for a crack up . . . both of us."

"In English please."

"I said we need, you and me, to get you back in . . . shape, where you feel well and I'd be . . . pleased to help so we don't end up with each of us having a . . . a nervous breakdown."

This gave her a genuine pause, and that made me feel bad. Was I that awful?

"Why on earth would you do that?" She asked taking me unawares.

"Well . . . why not? I be NOT that horrible am I?"

"But . . . ," she looked confused and was hunting for words it seemed. "I like our battles."

Now it was my turn to be stunned and lost for words.

"What are mother-in-laws for?" She quipped.

"Seriously?" I was severely flummoxed and a well-defined uneasiness crept over me. What was she up to now? "Save me the trouble and tell me what gives here."

She thrust a well-meaning look at me, as if to say, you know what I mean, and proceeded to get up and pour herself more tea. Usually, I'd be the one doing that, and that amazed me she'd do it in front of me.

"You . . . you . . . don't need me at all do you?" I pointed out.

"No, notta bit," and she actually smiled a real smile at me.

"This . . . this . . . ," I waved me arms around, "has been a put on . . . all of it." I declared realising the dragon-in-law was crazy.

"Yup. Well, not the shingles, that's real and it is painful." And she sat back down sipping her tea and made a gesture I should pour a cup if I cared to join her. I did. We spent a good two hours hashing through the memories of some practical jokes we either knew or didn't know (the didn't know was mind-boggling to me) and had a rather goodish time of it. Our consciences told us to apologise to each other, and we did. I thought, good we have turned a corner and new leaves all around. 

With that behind us, she looked sheepishly over her teacup rim, took a last sip of tea, and said loudly and clearly, "May the games begin anew!"

What is she like? I ask you!

Gabe

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