i rarely get sick. i’m happy and proud of my almost zero-sickness record this year. i can’t say i have a 100% healthy lifestyle. sure, i take no alcohol, i don’t smoke, and i don’t eat pork much. but i also don’t exercise, i don’t sleep early, and i don’t watch my diet. i credit my “healthy” state (with that i mean not having any cold, cough, or fever often) to eating breakfast. no specific foods. just anything with rice and egg, and i am good. oh, and banana, too. i do become hypochondriac though sometimes. having some palpitations makes me worry that i am doomed and sights getting blurrier and blurrier for me leads me into thinking that i’m getting blind. but so far, i am grateful that i am not struck with the usual ailments and don’t have to visit the doctor often. in the first place, i don’t want to visit one. secondly, i don’t like doctors.
i can count using the fingers of my one hand the times in my entire life that i had to go to a doctor. they were mostly for employment purposes. being raised by adults who were born and raised in the province, i am used to all those natural ways of healing. before “herbal” and “organic” got mainstream through those supplements and medicines, my mother and grandmother long introduced them to me. even if i wasn’t sick, they made me take this drink they created from boiling assorted leaves or roots like that of guava, star apple, pandan, and mango. For a while too, a piece of garlic served as our pre-bedtime “pill.” When my brother and i got fever or the like, they performed an act called “lutay.” it was like a massage where pieces of banana leaves with oil (baby oil or coconut oil or other kinds of oil they also concocted out of certain things) in them was put on different parts of the body to find the “sickest” spot. either that act performed on us by my mother, or she would take us to a local doctor or faith healer, who would also perform a different set of rituals to determine whether it was just a common illness or it was caused by a bad spirit. although not all the time i agreed with these means due to the bitter taste of the drinks or after-smell of the formula, i must say they were effective because we were cured. when we transferred to the city though, i started doubting their effectiveness because other people doubted it or laughed at the thought of it. way back, other people viewed someone who used such ways of healing as one doing some witchcraft or someone, yes, from the province. since when i was younger, i used to value more what other people say or think, i started to reject the leaves and the roots and everything related to my roots (pun intended). i did not totally embrace though the kind of medicine the city offers. up until now, i rarely drink tablets and capsules of pain relievers (i just can’t swallow them well), and like i mentioned, i don’t really see a doctor. what did i do then? i just prayed. with the faith that i would eventually feel better, i fought those ailments. thankfully, they did pass.
at present, i am back with the natural means. i self-treat myself whenever i don’t feel well. i boil some water with roots of ginger and it serves as my vitamin drink. i eat fruits and do my best to eat veggies as often as possible. i still don’t take supplements even if they’re made from organic and herbal formula. i still think that since they are manufactured in laboratories, they have these hidden bad side effects. i hope i am wrong. because the ironic thing is my grandmother (juana), who is 95 or 96 years old, and my mother, are open now to those kinds of medicines. they have their daily dose of vitamin pills which, they say, really make them feel healthy. they still take other herbal drinks though, so i think i have nothing to worry.
but i still doubt doctors. this sentiment is only purely based on my experience. during the few times i sought their service, they didn’t actually help in curing me. they just asked me a few questions about how i feel, what i eat, what my work is, and then scribbled some drugs i had to take (which i did not always do), advised me to not eat or drink this or that, and charged me with an unbelievable amount for that less-than-ten-minutes chit-chat. they’re not even friendly (at least, that was what i felt). or cute. no dr. mcdreamy or dr. grey who feels strong concern for her patients. that’s why i think dr. house is the only realistic portrayal of their kind. with the crankiness i mean. at least, he was really helping someone get well. unlike those i encountered in real life that made me go home to my province every time i feel that my illness is a little serious and resort to a local doctor, or what they tag as a quack doctor. but i think those medical shows that romanticize the medicine field should be blamed, too, for either the high expectations for it or the disappointment with it in the real world.
i’m not saying every doctor is the same. may it be a quack doctor or a schooled doctor, they all act based on their individual skills and knowledge. and they can either heal or worsen conditions. i just hope every one of them has and show real concern to people who seek their help, and not just go with their usual ask-prescribe-pay ritual. because sometimes, it’s the concern that would help more. it’s that concern that would make the person get well.
i am fortunate that i was not getting any cold or fever. i really think i’ve had a strong immune system. until two days ago. because of ice-cream. it started the tonsillitis, then it led to a runny nose, now cough, and a mild fever. and because of that, i’ve been absent from work for two days now. worse, because of that, i will have to go see a doctor. for a medical certification that i got sick. otherwise, i won’t be able to resume work. for that reason, i am thankful. seriously though, with that visit, i hope to meet one that will “sweep me off my feet” and change my cynical view. for now, i will continue with my self-medication and pray that this itchy, scratchy feel on my throat will soon be gone.
(image credits: www.robotplunger.com; 2.bp.blogspot.com)
lately, i’ve noticed myself getting emotional.
i began this post with that statement to also warn you (yes, you, who have intentionally or accidentally gotten to this page) that, yeah, this is no different from the usual personal ramblings of some other rambly bloggers out there. so, if you do not want to divert from your good vibes, do not, as in do not, proceed. but if you still want to, thank you. for choosing to join me as i wallow in those emotions.
don’t get me wrong though. i don’t hate the universe. i may be socially awkward at times but i don’t hate people. i don’t smile much, but i giggle and laugh a lot. i stopped indulging myself in high-schoolish diaries after my first real heartbreak as a promise to myself that i will never again rant or grieve that way, or never again rant or grieve, period. what i just always tell myself is that there are people who are in deeper sadness or deeper poverty than i am in. not that i don’t sympathize but it’s a reminder that i don’t have much right to feel bad about myself. but we all know that emotions are stubborn. we will feel for the simple fact that we feel. and even if my occasional sorrow is none compared to the other problems the world has, it’s still not non-existent. i’m just trying to justify my being emotional lately and actually giving in to that.
i know i have a choice not to. i can do any activity that will require me to think of other things, to move, and to have fun. but even having fun stirs emotions up. not really crying. but usually, ending in that. happy or sad things, every little thing seems to poke my lacrimal gland. a co-worker and her newborn son. a predictable movie scene. a game-show contestant winning. an old woman asking for alms. and even those pesky kids in the street who want to grab the cold drink in my hand. worse, the emotions don’t choose a place when they attack. at my work station while trying to understand the English a grade-one-or-so student attempts to write. on the bus when i am standing and people pushing me in, brushing off my boobs and butt, and stepping on my foot. and even inside the restroom while trying to endure the not-to-be-mentioned kind of smell because one irresponsible fellow did not flush. but the worst place is in my little space called home because here, when emotions knock, i do not only let them in. i also entertain them by playing the how-i-met-your-mother episode where depressed Robin came home and Ted surprised her with the singing and dancing Christmas light display he had set up. i wish i had that, too. not Ted. the singing and dancing Christmas lights.
i know this emotional state i am in lately is really bad. i am not self-pitying; i am world-pitying. i would want to say i’m trying to be funny with that line, but i am not for right at this moment, it is creeping in again.
sure, i can blame it on PMS.
or maybe on the fact that i turn a year older today.