I frantically search around my room for my Ipad. It should be laying somewhere around here I think as I push my sleeves further up my arm. All I want to do is google why all the red bumps were appearing on my body in random places. Spotting the pink case I lean down ready to find out the fate of my limbs. Would my arms have to be amputated. Well great my non-existent swim career will surely be over. The mess of my room makes it hard to grab the edge of the device that would act as my fortune teller. Having to sweep my arm down to throw a couple of pieces of dirty clothing off I smack my arm on my jeans and my teeth connect with my lip to keep any sounds of pain from coming out. Yep! My arms are definitely being cut off. I hit the app with the tip of my fingers and I press the search bar trying to type a description of my symptoms. Red bumps sporadically appearing throughout a period of 24 hours , pain, the bumps like to cluster in small groups. Unable to think of anything else I just press enter. Over ten thousand results come up and as I start scrolling through my heart begins to beat out of it’s normal pace and cause perspiration to pop onto my neck.  Pemphigus vulgaris, Steven-Johnsons syndrome, Toxic shock syndrome,and Staphylococcal. All life-threatening and painful I try to go through the symptoms of these rather frightening diseases comparing them to what I was feeling. Pain in the bumps, growing slowly as the pain increases, random periods of high perspiration.
“Just because I’m suddenly hot doesn’t mean I have Steven-Johnsons Syndrome.” I jump as the door opens. My dad peaks in.
“Who are you talking to?”
“No one just thinking out loud.” He shuts the door with a nod and I return to my research. Sudden sweating, all this pain, the bumps. Being unable to narrow it down causes frustration to rack my body. I shut the Ipad case and slip under my covers.
  I could have a deadly skin disease and all I’m interested in is taking a nap.My mind wanders into sleep and the pain up and down my arms finally starts to fade. Maybe I’m healing? The fear of what’s going on with my arms continues to overtake me, and my own thoughts of reasurement aren't helping. An hour comes and goes and the pain in my arms has spread to my chest and upper back. I get up and standing in the mirror I take off my shirt to reveal more red bumps have spread across my chest in clusters. I can only infer the pain on my back meant they had spread there to. Come on stay calm. You don’t have a deadly disease. These bumps don’t contain a slow moving toxin that is going to seep into my bloodstream. Google isn’t always right. I had dreamed a lot in the last hour about all the times I had encountered death. I have seen near death when my mom’s lung collapsed and I have seen death when my great-grandfather died, but never have I faced a feeling as if death was coming for me. As if the Grimm Reaper was staring through my window waiting to snatch me up and drag me down into the underworld as his next conquest. I grip my shirt and put it back on as I leave my room. Deadly disease or not teachers aren’t giving us any mercy with homework even though spring break is looming. Unless I only have a week to live. That would be plausible if I was diagnosed with Staphylococcal. Sitting down at my computer I begin typing my essay. Appropriately it’s about goodbyes. Since I’ve made my mind up that I’m dying I should spend more time thinking about all the ones I’ll have to make instead of writing a paper on it. I decide to forget about the essay topic and google another one. Maybe I should just write about death. Then at least it will be ironic when I have my friend read it out loud at my funeral. Later that night I hop out of the shower and run down to show my mom the marks on my arm. Should I tell her I’m dying? Should I let her know I have Steven-Johnsons disease? That a toxin is seeping into my bloodstream as we speak? That every moment she sees and touches me is precious and that she should lock these memories away because when I’m gone they will be too painful to remember. Forget it, I’ll spare her my fate….  “Hey mom are these bumps normal?” She looks up from her kohls ad and grabs my arm saying.
“Not really… Do they hurt?” She doesn’t know what they are? Isn’t that her job to know what might appear on her only daughter's body, and be able to give me some tylenol to fix it.
“Shannon?” I look up from my arm.
“ Yeah they hurt….a lot. Similar to the symptoms of Toxic Shock Syndrome. Which I don't have!” I quickly add that on to the end of my sentence. I don’t want her worried. She looks at me suspiciously but all she says is
“I’ll take you to the doctor tomorrow.”  Not even a specialist? My arms are being amputated for sure...or I’m dead.
The following day I was diagnosed with Shingles. I didn’t have  Pemphigus vulgaris or Steven-Johnsons syndrome. I wasn’t suffering from Toxic shock syndrome, or staphylococcal. Perhaps I learned a lesson, teaching me not to google symptoms of a rash that randomly appears on your body. Maybe I learned to leave the medical research to the professionals, or possibly I just had to have a moment to remind myself that life is immeasurably precious and I can’t take everyday for granted when there might not be a tomorrow. In the end we are all destined for the same ending, why spend it worrying about when your time is going to be up when you can’t control what's inevitably right ahead of you. Spend some of your days living it up, but spends others relaxing. Also don’t forget that a rash randomly appearing on your body doesn’t always mean certain death.