editorials

The Fever Blister

I knew it was coming before it made its grand debut last week. I could feel it growing deep within my lip — like the seismic activity that occurs just before a volcano erupts violently.

I pointed it out to one of my coworkers.

“I need to run over to the drug store at lunch and get some Abreva,” I told Cecelia, who immediately scanned my lip for any hint of a fever blister.

“Cold sore?” she asked. “I don’t see anything.”

I pointed to my upper lip and said, “Oh, it’s there. Just wait. It will be the size of Mount Everest tomorrow.”

I wish I could say I don’t know much about ever-so-ugly fever blisters, also known as cold sores, but I am all too familiar. I’ve gotten them since I was a young girl. Throughout my life, I’ve had them pop up about every other year, and at the most inopportune times — like just before picture day in high school. My skin is both fair and thin, so they stand out on my face like a flashing red beacon, and they usually leave a nice scar in their wake.

I’ve always wondered why I get them. Perhaps once upon a time, some witch somewhere put an evil curse on me. When I was growing up and developed a colossal cold sore on my lip, my mother would take one look at me and say, “Oh, look at that fever blister. That’s just the meanness popping out of you. Don’t pick at it, or you’ll make it worse.”

Worse? I shudder to think what my fever blisters would have become had I picked at them. They were already unbelievably bad. I admit that a few times, I attempted to camouflage the enormous distractions with flesh-colored concealing makeup and powder. But my fever blisters aren’t your average, run-of-the-mill variety. Oh no. They are industrial-strength cold sores. They are the award-winning divas of the fever blister world. They want to be seen in all their glory. They want to walk the red carpet with all eyes gazing upon them. The bigger, the better. Nothing can successfully conceal my fever blisters.

But all kidding aside, cold sores are caused by a certain strain of the herpes simplex virus (HSV-1), and most adults carry the virus, even if they’ve never had symptoms or a disgusting cold sore. They are the lucky ones.

And so last week, I felt the fever blister coming on and surrendered myself to it. On day one, I purchased a tube of Abreva and immediately applied it to my lip as I said a continued from page

silent prayer asking God to halt its growth and spare me the embarrassment and despair of having a humiliating fever blister.

On day two, it began rising like a cake in the oven — pushing itself to the surface into a large pimple-ish mound just above my lip line. By day three, it was as big as the state of Texas — maybe bigger. On day four, it blistered and began to ooze.

On day five, I got up, looked in the mirror before dressing for work, and thought, “It is, what it is.”

Later that day, I had to zip into the grocery store to pick up a few items for dinner. Thankfully, many people in my community are still wearing masks when they shop, and my COVID-19 mask hid my fever blister from the rest of the world and spared me from the intrusive stares and gasps of other customers and their curious children.

And as of today, my fever blister has formed a nice crusty scab that tightens when I smile. Ugh. I’ll probably have to deal with this ugliness for another week or two.

Some people are prone to developing styes around their eyes. Others get warts on their fingers and hands. Some endure massive acne outbreaks. As for me, I am queen of the fever blisters. Lord have pity and mercy on me.