I’ve been sick all week, which is the inspiration for this post.
Ugh, I hate getting sick. I really hate getting sick.
But I don’t mean some common cold, minor annoyance kind of sick, I mean full-on, half fucking dead sick. The kind of sick where you almost want to die just so you stop feeling sick.
I also hate headaches. I really hate headaches.
But I don’t mean some itchiness behind the eyeballs, minor annoyance kind of headache, I mean full-on, skull splitting under the pressure headaches. The kind of headache where you almost want to die just so your head stops hurting.
I also hate getting hurt. I really hate getting hurt.
But I don’t mean paper cuts, minor annoyance kind of hurt, I mean that limb and/or appendage might never function properly again kind of hurt. The kind of hurt where you start wondering how good your quality of life will be if/when you ever heal up.
Are you seeing a trend here?
99.9% of the time my body functions like a perfect eating, sleeping, and fucking machine. That’s the way it should be, the whole body working together in perfect harmony to complete it’s biological imperatives. That is, eating, sleeping, and fucking.
The body is an extremely complex collection of various systems that all work together.
However, despite all the physiology and biology lessons, and all the evidence otherwise, I choose not to believe in the complexity of my body. I choose to believe that my body doesn’t have subsystems, organs, chemical processes, none of that, my body is one, large unit. I’m like a clay figure, clay through and through. I am one solid, moving creature.
Why do I believe that? It’s vital for me to maintain this illusion that my body is one giant organism called “me”. When I start considering the biological complexity of my own body then I start to doubt my own existence, like “I” am just some echo of electrical energy bouncing around a giant collection of symbiotic relationships between microorganisms. Whenever I think about physiological complexity I start pondering all those religious and philosophical questions. What is life? What is the meaning of life? Questions without any answers. So, this illusion of one giant organism must be maintained at any cost, otherwise I’m going to end up in a corner somewhere, rocking back and forth while drooling on myself and singing show tunes.
When something goes wrong with the body, one of the pieces ceases functioning the way it should, it’s kind of a betrayal. Like, “Fuck you, brain. Why you gotta go all migrainey like that?” Or, “Fuck you, immune system. What, fell off the wagon again? WTF?”
When something goes wrong, it’s increasingly difficult to maintain my “one (me) organism” perspective. Every piece of the body absolutely has to function together to maintain the illusion that there are no individual pieces, only a single, giant whole.
I think that’s why I get so frustrated when I have issues with my body, it makes it so much more difficult to maintain my delusions. Fuck you, brain, for giving me such terrible parameters to work with.
Ugh. I hate being sick.