The Divine Power of Friendship

I stumbled toward the threshold of my bedroom door as I held my hand on my forehead. I quickly shut my bedroom light out to avoid any triggers and began to babble myself to sleep. Day three of an excruciating migraine had set in and refused to let up. Instead of taking the time to see what was wrong, I laid down to sleep. In true workaholic fashion I kept pushing for the next day or so and popped Advil when I remembered the excruciating pain of moving forward.

I knew I was sick, but I also knew I paid for a vacation and was looking forward to hanging out with my out of town crew and best friends. Washington D.C. is a staycation that never disappoints. I figured I would push through the workweek and take the weekend to rest.

In an effort to at least find out why I couldn’t get rid of my migraines, I decided to drive myself to an urgent care doctor. By this point a large cluster of lesions, puss, and blood began to form in the area where the migraine had persisted. I paid my one hundred and seventy-five dollars cash and sat in the waiting room. He asked a series of questions, performed the all too familiar physical examination, and said, “You have shingles”.

Shingles? Are you fucking serious? I had been very fortunate up until this point. I never really dealt with any health issues — with the exception of a mild case of teenage acne — a few ingrown hairs, and an occasional pimple or swollen gland. I woke up the next morning with an entire half of my face filled with blood filled lesions. The shingles broke out in the middle of my forehead and over the top left of my eye. The smell alone was enough to scare me, but it was when I looked in the mirror that my stomach really hit the bathroom floor. I looked like a dalmatian.

I called my college roommate, my best friends, and my extended buddies in Washington D.C to explain what was going on. “Hey, I’m just calling to let you know I have shingles, lesions are growing all over my face and I don’t think I’m going to make it to D.C.,” I explained. One of my friend’s responses in particular reassured me. “It’s not going to jump on me! You're fine. Get your medicine, your biggest pair of shades, charge your phone and get here. We’ll take it from there” he rebutted. “I’ll see you at 4PM. I’ll be waiting at the bus stop.”

I looked pretty bad. The shingle scarring was starting to drain and turn colors in the center of my forehead. I walked with my hood up and shades glued to my face as passersby tried to make out what I was doing. I felt terribly self-conscious, embarrassed and for the first time in my life, I felt exactly how it feels to be stared at, questioned and made to feel less than by people for a proclivity beyond my control.

“Oh, it’s not that bad, I was preparing for you to look real bad” Johnny exclaimed. “Let’s go get some chicken and shrimp from the chicken spot, feed you, then get you home so you can rest. Tomorrow, we’ll do brunch, but we’ll pick a place where you can sport your shades.” I obliged, being careful not to make myself feel even worse by looking at my scarring in the rear view mirror. Isn’t it something.

I stayed the whole weekend in Washington D.C, mostly at my hotel sleeping and having friends visit my room to offer hugs and free laughs. I cancelled a series of classes, workshops, gigs, and performances. That was hard. But the hardest part was not allowing myself to become overwhelmed by what was happening to me. Still my good friends kept my spirits high cracking jokes and making sure I never EVER felt left out.

Life can change in the blink of an eye — literally. While I was planning to take Washington D.C by storm, another plan was brewing. I planned to go to Washington for one reason, and when I got there a completely different program was in order. My trip to D.C. was less about turning up and more about being tended to.

That weekend I learned so much about myself, real friendship, patience and the power of healing. I learned about the importance of taking care of myself. I figured out that having a migraine for three days is not normal, and overworking is not noble, it’s silly. I learned that good friends will never judge you; instead they will sit at your bed side and tell you it’s not that bad — no matter what it actually looks like. I was reminded that even with a “messed up” face, I am still worthy of all the love, affection and good vibes that I so freely give. I learned that real friends are the human angels that God gives us to help us through the hardest days and darkest nights.

And as for my bloody lesion filled face? The lesions dried up, I sustained significant nerve damage around my left eye, lost part of my left eyebrow and drank lots of whiskey in the spirit of self-care. Eventually it all started to heal in it’s own time. But most importantly, I learned that my value, my brilliance and my worth cannot be halted — not even by an aggressive onset of shingles. A setback is ultimately just a setup for a comeback. I’m back and better than ever before.