Welcome to Part II of our series, Our Crazy Bodies, Our Crazy Selves. I have no idea how many parts there are to this series, that is just how crazy it is. Yesterday we touched upon the Imagine Diet. Today we follow up with Imaginary Ailments. Just as good as the real thing? You decide!
Every once in a while, something is just wrong. A pain here, an indescribable something there. I don’t like to spend $25 just to reel out bizarre complaints like, “No, it does not hurt exactly, but my Rachmaninov has not been the same, especially if it is cold outside.” Only to then be palpated and declared a medical marvel of normalcy. So I try to ignore my body’s little misfires as long as that is possible. Once acknowledged, the problem becomes unbearable, though nothing has actually changed. There is much room for torment in this scenario. Does it hurt, or am I just thinking about it?Â I come to the conclusion that any part of the body hurts or feels weird, if I think hard enough about it.
This is how it came to be that weeks ago, my eye felt funny and I thought little of it. After a few weeks ha ha feelin funny, I casually thought I should be seen. I phoned the doctor for a next-day appt. and spent the rest of the day in an agony of twitching and blinking. Suddenly, it was unendurable. At the doctor’s office we had the usual description of “symptoms” of a highly fantastic nature, followed by the discovery that my eyeglass prescription needed an update. So there were a bunch of weird tests and blue lights and drops, and new glasses. And if my updated Rx does not fix it, there will be more tests. My right eye is wonky, but I was not emotionally prepared to be choosing new frames today! So lord knows what I have gotten myself into sartorially, to the tune of a couple hundred bucks that OF COURSE were just LYING AROUND saying “hey, what about us, we’re bored”.Â A most ill-timed medical fugue, since I am still looking for someone to rent the studio.
My point here is that the mind is very powerful. Just two days ago, I sat at this same desk, twiddling my auburn locks ’round a pencil and wondering if I should have a bisque or a stew, oh and go to the doctor or not? Just one day later I can’t concentrate for the strange sense I am staring out of two unconnected holes in my face, one of which won’t play along, and the glasses won’t be ready until next week.
The lesson here is simple. Put you body out of your mind.