Finally

11.

Here goes.

12.

I am a shingles blister. I have blossomed on your lower lip, but then I don’t need to tell you, do I. In case you’re wondering, I have sisters. (Clever, huh. Blister sisters.) Some have come with me now; some will appear later.

Today I am red and only slightly raised above the surface of your skin. You feel an itchiness and a mild burning sensation where I am. Ha! Wait until tomorrow, the next day, and days on end. I will cause all flesh surrounding me to redden up and burn. Soon your entire lip will feel tingly, almost like numbness, but it will not be numb, believe me. You will have constant pain accompanied by recurrent twinges of pain, although the word twinges doesn’t do justice to the intense pain you will feel—like short electric shocks.

Eventually, I will swell and fill with fluid. Itchiness will increase. In fact, I will itch until you think you cannot live unless you can scratch me. But beware. Scratching will spread the virus, bring more of my sisters, and cause me to grow larger as well. Yes, scratching will prolong and deepen my hold on your skin. And if you scratch, you will scar. Do you hear me? SCAR.

You will not sleep well because of pain. You will not rest well when awake. You will cry for pain medication, for topical medication, for some relief. But nothing you use internally or externally will be anything but transitory.

You will count days and watch them turn into weeks. You will think to be well in a month, but you will be wrong. Four months will find you up and out, but you will not be well, and your affliction will show on your face. I am on your face, and I am powerful. Never forget that.

13.

Get the picture?