In spite of suffering from probably endometriosis, I’ve always considered myself to be a fairly hale person. I’ve rarely had a need to go to the doctor, and the few times I did get sick, it was pretty bad. So it’s been somewhat bemusing to me that, since moving here, I feel like I’ve lived on the bleeding sick roster!
Perhaps it’s psychosomatic; I am the Queen of Anxiety and whatnot… but that wouldn’t explain why I wasn’t out flat during my military years. Perhaps it’s because they make it rather difficult to actually take a day off; my doctor was at a base 20 minutes away. If I was sick, I wasn’t really inclined to make a 40 minute round trip on my lonesome when it’s all of 18, 20 minutes to and from work (and none of it on highways)… especially if the chances were I was going to be handed Vitamin M (first definition) and sent to work anyways! And frankly, Motrin does noooothing for me.
Whatever the case, I hold onto hope that someday my immune system will finish processing all these foreign antibodies, and that I can return to my vision of healthy. While I’m at it, I best to hope to lose 20 years of age, hee hee hee – I suspect I’d be making these same whinging complaints from the other side of the pond. We age, things stop working… ah well. I’m going to blame it on the area for now though, ’cause that’s what works for me.