I, sadly, have suffered my cold sores for most of my life.
While in the fourth grade when we had to take Sex Ed I went home crying because I had herpes. (This was pointed out by very helpful classmates) That day has stuck with me since.
When I get stressed? BAM! My lip gets a beautiful bright pink neon flashing sign for a week.
Now, I know in the big, and really, little picture this is no big deal, until HG treats you like you are Patient Zero of the household.
My home becomes reminiscent of that scene in ET, when the entire house is cloaked off and the guys are all walking around suited up and no one can touch him and the poor little guy is just laying there? I am the little guy tarped off.
The minute there are signs, he pretty much puts on a Hazmat suit and follows me around with bleach wipes and Lysol. The same cuddly guy who generally would walk thru fire for me keeps at least a ten yard distance.
*insert Meatloaf singing in the background “I would do anything for love…but I won’t do that…* and by that he means me…