Shingles and My 10-Year-Old Bottle of Vicodin

By Cynthia Toussaint

A few years ago, a friend who’d been through a rowdy case of shingles tried to spook me.

“You of all people, Cynthia, have to get the shingles vaccine. You couldn’t go through this level of pain with all you’ve got going on,” she said.

Yeah, yeah, I thought, normies who don’t live with the flame-broiler called Complex Regional Pain Syndrome can’t hack the small stuff.

While Laura’s warning was well-intentioned, I decided to skip the shot because I’d heard it was a real ass kicker. That, and I’m already an Olympic-level pro at neuropathic pain. I’d be fine without getting the shingles vaccine.      

I bet on the wrong horse.    

In early August, a mysterious pain on the side of my left leg woke me. I’d never had aching pain that hurt so much, and rousted my partner John in alarm. Muscling through my day, the ache turned lava hot while I moaned and yelped. By bedtime, I was writhing and screaming. No position offered a smidge of relief and I ended up pretzelled against the foot board after only a couple hours of sleep.   

I couldn’t make heads or tails of this new pain. It burned something fierce like CRPS, but was unfamiliar. Terrified, I pointed out to John the places on my thigh where piercing pain, like striking arrows, were erupting. Worse, there was a “hatchet” in my groin.

42 years into CRPS, could this be a different kind of pain rearing its ugly head? The new version came complete with a high fever and wipe-out fatigue.

No amount of my old standby’s – rest, heat, distraction, kitty cuddling – offered relief. In fact, the pain kept amping higher, rendering me useless.

Soon, a bright-red, ghoulish rash appeared and began to spread by the hour. It felt like I was starring in my own horror film, with no pause button on the remote.

The next day, it hit me. This is goddamn shingles and I scooted off to an immediate care clinic.

I was disappointed to get a young male doctor and, true to form, he dismissed my symptoms by announcing that I’d burned myself with a heating pad. His only advice was for me to take a picture of the rash for reasons unknown. 

That night, while the rash continued to march on, the redness turned to bubbling blisters, and the next day I found myself back at immediate care.   

This time at the clinic I hit the jackpot, as a skilled and caring female doctor took about three seconds to diagnose shingles. Livid over the previous day’s dismissal, as treatment time was now of the essence, she instructed me to immediately pick up anti-viral medication and start them as soon as I got home.

Before leaving the room, she gave me a major fright. She looked into my eyes and told me that my shingles might become chronic, especially with my long CRPS history. At that moment, I had no doubt I was in for a world of unchartered hurt.                

For the next two months, except for doctor appointments, I lived between my bed and the couch, surviving one minute at a time. The blisters spread from the top of my thigh down to my knee, and up onto my left buttocks. Mixed with exquisite pain were patches of numbness, and my dermatologist gently warned that this might indicate nerve death.        

My allodynia was so severe I couldn’t bear anything touching the rash, and the never-ending pain kept me awake nights. I despised hearing from doctors, again and again, that I had the worst case of shingles they’d ever seen. Their biggest concern was that the rash would spread to my right side, in which case they suspected it would travel to my eyes and I’d likely lose my sight.   

Vicodin to the Rescue

The pain got so bad, John pleaded with me to take a Vicodin from a 10-year-old bottle he’d asked me to keep, just in case. In the past, this was unthinkable as my primary physician warned me that, due to being on a benzodiazepine, combining both medications might suppress my breathing. Despite that, I didn’t hesitate and got my first taste of blessed relief.

Soon my frantic pain doctor directed me to up my dose to four 5mg Vicodin tablets a day. Scared due to being opioid-naïve, I went on three instead. I could survive the pain then, but had zero quality of life. During this miserable time, I gulped laxatives to keep the pipes flowing, and for 10 days hobbled no further than our condo balcony. I was slowly cancelling my life and couldn’t even tolerate a visitor.

I ruminated over worst case scenarios. What if my pain stays chronic at a level ten? Also, my dermatologist told me I might be scarred forever.

Even if my pain improves, could I ever show my disfigured leg in public? Upon seeing the angry rash, my sister-in-law innocently chirped, “You can’t get in the pool with that, Cynthia. It’ll frighten the other swimmers.” I knew she was right and wanted to sob.

Mercifully, in the last month, the pain and rash (four tubes of scar gel and counting!) started to retreat, bit by bit. With great trepidation, I successfully weaned off the Vicodin, but sure enough, I’m left with post-herpetic neuralgia, the chronic pain I so dreaded.

While my numbness and allodynia are improving, the hatchet pain in my groin hasn’t dissipated. I’m over-the-moon happy to be swimming again with no problem, but for the first time this former ballerina is less than limber on her left side, which makes Pilates and Feldenkrais movement therapy formidable challenges.

While there are no guarantees, I remain optimistic for total healing because I take such good care of my body and mind. Three cheers for self-care!

Hands down, shingles at its apex was the worst pain experience of my life, and because of my CRPS, it was far, FAR worse than what a healthy person would have experienced. My doctors and I suspect the immunotherapy I took for cancer care over two years ago played a major role in getting shingles now, as it’s been the root of three prior serious pain complications.                   

While I can’t go back in time and take Laura’s sage advice about getting the almighty shingles vaccine, I can share my cautionary tale in hopes you’ll do so. With a caveat, I shuddered to learn the vaccine – which I’ll be getting in February – isn’t full proof. Inoculated folk can still get shingles, but those cases are rare and usually less severe, which is especially beneficial for those already wrangling with neuropathic pain.          

While I’m slowly moving my shingles nightmare (albeit with PTSD) into the rearview mirror, I’m haunted by a horrific question. Because my pharmacy refused to fill my pain doctor’s new prescription for Vicodin, what would have happened to me if not for my 10-year-old bottle?

In the grips of the worst pain and torture I’ve ever experienced and the absolute hopelessness of relief, in desperation what might I have done?

I don’t know, but am glad as hell I didn’t have to find out. My god, where is the mercy for people with pain?

Cynthia Toussaint is the founder and spokesperson at For Grace, a non-profit dedicated to bettering the lives of women in pain. She has lived with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) and multiple co-morbidities for over four decades, and has been battling cancer since 2020. Cynthia is the author of “Battle for Grace: A Memoir of Pain, Redemption and Impossible Love.” 

New Lyme Disease Test Could Lead to Earlier Treatment

By Pat Anson, PNN Editor

At long last, scientists are close to developing a new test to detect Lyme disease weeks sooner than current tests -- allowing patients to begin treatment earlier.

Lyme disease is a bacterial illness spread by ticks. Left untreated, it can lead to chronic conditions such as joint and back pain, chronic fatigue, fibromyalgia and neuropathy.

Borrelia burgdorferi was first identified as the bacteria that causes Lyme disease in 1983.  The antibody tests currently used to detect Borrelia were developed a decade later and have a number of shortcomings. They can take up to three weeks to get results and cannot distinguish between an active infection or an old one.

A team of scientists recently reported in the journal Clinical Infectious Diseases that advances in molecular diagnostics should make a new DNA test for Borrelia technically feasible.

“These direct tests are needed because you can get Lyme disease more than once, features are often non-diagnostic and the current standard FDA-approved tests cannot distinguish an active, ongoing infection from a past cured one,” said lead author Steven Schutzer, MD, a physician-scientist at Rutgers New Jersey Medical School.

“The problem is worsening because Lyme disease has increased in numbers to 300,000 per year in the United States and is spreading across the country and world.”

Early symptoms of Lyme disease include fever, chills, headaches, fatigue, muscle and joint aches, and swollen lymph nodes. A delayed rash often appears at the site of the tick bite, which resembles a ring or bulls-eye. When there is no rash, a reliable laboratory test is needed to detect an active disease.

“The new tests that directly detect the Lyme agent’s DNA are more exact and are not susceptible to the same false-positive results and uncertainties associated with current FDA-approved indirect tests,” said Schutzer.

Lyme disease is usually treated with antibiotics, but some patients experience complications that lead to Lyme disease syndrome (PTLDS), with long-term symptoms such as fatigue, muscle and joint pain and cognitive issues. Autoimmune diseases have also been associated with chronic Lyme disease.

Miss Understood: The Face of Lupus

By: Arlene Grau, Columnist

I like to think I eat healthy since being diagnosed with lupus. It wasn't too difficult because I grew up in a home where soda was never allowed and we hardly ever ate things high in sugar.

Since becoming a mother myself I decided organic foods were the best for my kids and greasy, processed items would not be something we would be eating. I notice the difference my diet has made in my overall well-being because anytime I give into temptation and have a cheeseburger, I end up extremely sick and with swollen joints.

Although I have food figured out, I recently discovered that lupus is full of surprises.

Living in Southern California, I know that I have to wear extra sun block to protect me from the sun because I break out in rashes, usually on my arms, because of my disease. This has happened every year, and on some occasions I’d get what's known as a butterfly rash across my cheeks, usually so mild it looked like blush instead.

Two weeks ago I woke up and my cheeks looked like I had been slapped so hard that it left welts and redness. My cheeks not only had a very severe butterfly rash, they were swollen.

I tried everything I had to cover up the rash but the redness showed right through my makeup. I bought over the counter hydrocortisone cream but it didn't decrease the redness, although it did help with the burning.

Washing my face with a brush was making it worse so I had to stop. It's been two weeks and no progress has been made.

I saw my rheumatologist a few days ago because I'm having a lupus flare. Aside from the issue I'm having with the face rash, I've got swollen knuckles, fingers and knees, and a significant amount of hair loss in the last few months. Anytime I shower or brush, I get a handful of hair that falls out or breaks off.

So now I'm taking folic acid, prenatal vitamins and ovation hair therapy pills to try to repair the damage. Luckily, my rheumatologist referred me to a dermatologist at USC and my doctor says they can prescribe something stronger for my face or even inject into the rash.

I've never been the type of person who cared what others thought about her looks until I got sick. Not because I'm sick, but because of all the scars I've acquired since my surgeries. My journey is only beginning. If my rash doesn't get better it will permanently scar my face.

What's the first thing you see when you look at someone? Their face. Since getting my rash I haven't wanted to leave my house. I even missed reading to my daughter’s class because I was too embarrassed to be with the other parents.

This morning I decided I wouldn't wait for my appointment with the dermatologist next week or for the medication to kick in (once I get some). I took matters into my own hands to find a way to temporarily cover up my rash. So, I went into a cosmetic store the minute it opened, found the cutest little worker and explained my situation to her.

I don't know much about makeup because I don't wear a lot, so I was amazed when she explained why there's a green cover up that goes on first, then she applied foundation and after that a powder. The end result had me crying like a baby. I couldn't stop thanking her for what she had done for me. I was Arlene again. I was looking at myself and I couldn't believe it. There was no redness or puffiness; it was the same flawless skin I was used to having before the rash.

It may seem silly, but something as simple as getting my makeup done has completely changed the way I feel about myself. I'm okay with leaving the house to run an errand because now I know how to cover up my rash properly. It's easy for me to cover up my body if I break out in rashes, but my face is always exposed even with a hat on. But now I feel beautiful again.

Arlene Grau lives in southern California with her family. Arlene suffers from rheumatoid arthritis, fibromyalgia, lupus, migraine, vasculitis, and Sjogren’s disease.

The information in this column should not be considered as professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. It is for informational purposes only and represent the author’s opinions alone. It does not inherently express or reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of Pain News Network.