Without the necessary precautions, it's the sort of thing that could happen to anybody, but you somehow never imagine it could happen to you. Blissfully in denial, I ignored the obvious symptoms for the first couple of days: the tell-tale sting, the burning sensation, the constant itching. It's true I've been playing it a little fast and loose with the 'socializing' over the last few weeks- the Kochi Fashion Week Afterparty, those two crazy weekends in Chennai and Bangalore after, the music festival in Ooty. What can I say? I just can't sleep anymore.
Still. I could have been more careful, in hindsight. I'm probably too old to blame my parents for not telling me about this stuff, but isn't there some kind of vaccination against these things? After much internal conflict, I phoned the family doctor. He's guided me through asthma and faux wisdom teeth, addiction and depression, but this was a new low, even for me. "Yes, you're definitely infected," he confirmed, "you'd better warn everybody you've been with in the last few weeks."
Where do I begin? I didn't even remember the names of some of them. Definitely didn't have phone numbers, or email. And am I not entitled to a little indignation of my own? Maybe it had already been going around, and they- the lot of them- had given it to me. I certainly didn't harvest it in my ball sack. They should be calling me to apologize! Judging by the time frame though, it was pretty clear whom I'd contracted it from: that colleague my sister had set me up with. She's been off work for "personal reasons" ever since, my sister reported. I'd have to do the decent thing.
So log on to Facebook I did today morning, and typed out the following status update:
"It's come to my attention that I'm now the inadvertent incubator of a particularly virulent disease. Those of you who spent the last few weeks in my company, please get yourself to a doctor asap and get yourself checked for Chicken Pox. Apologies to all, and a pox on your family, Sister's Colleague!"