Brief summary of life this week:
Sunday: Break out with lovely premenstrual cold sore. (Period where are you? I know we haven't gotten a great schedule established again but if you could maybe hurry up it'd be so great. Thx.)
Monday: Grandies give Ems peanut butter, I am pissed. Freak out. Get over it.
Tuesday: Pick up Emsy and find her covered in very fine pink rash. Freak out again, then realize if it's peanut allergy it would have happened more immediately and even if it is an allergy it's obviously not severe. They also gave her Kool-Aid with dyes & shit in, so maybe it's that. They are told that juice is preferable. Water even better.
Wednesday: The rash is better but still there. Debate for an hour or two and finally decide not to take her to doctor.
Later, Papaw calls to tell me he has diagnosed her with his RN sister's help via telephone. She has Sixth Disease, he says. I snort and scoff and am generally obnoxious because there's no such thing. He's confusing it with Fifth Disease, which my supervisor's munchkin just had, but which doesn't match Emsy's symptoms.
Later still: Coworker lets me know her grandson had Sixth Disease. Google confirms this does exist, sounds like our rash, and is in the herpes family (simplex 6, hence the name.) Just like my ugly cold sore. Hmm. Great. No info is available on transmission but it is contagious. I am very glad all the aforementioned scoffing was done to my coworkers and not Papaw; I seem to be assholishly wrong, and also potentially responsible.
It's no big, she's not itchy or upset or feverish- that's the only real worry with this. If it doesn't look better tomorrow I'll take her to be checked, but I'm less worried now. It's also not a lifelong herpes thing like my pretty pretty cold sores. It's just a pisser. I never kiss her pwecious widdle boo face when I have a breakout, but I probably was smooching belly or arms or legs. And it could be totally unrelated- couldn't confirm or deny my possible guilt;)
Coming soon: Why I, officially, rock.