I’m NOT ill

Here I am in sunny Pai with a beautiful hut to stay in and a view of the mountains to wake up to.

And what have I been looking at? The inside of a toilet bowl. Eugh.

Until recently, I have always had the immune system of a wild alligator crossed with Bear Grylls.
Under cooked food? No biggie. Everyone in the office has got a cold? Not me! The plague is going round? I’ll survive.
I refused to take any pills or medication. In fact, going to the doctors was a distant memory (partly due to my trusty immune system and partly due to a dislike of germ infested waiting rooms). I liked to handle ailments the old fashioned way and let my body fix itself, with the exception of broken limbs, that is. My old-school approach meant that I hadn’t been ill for two years.
But suddenly everything has changed.

A month ago I got my jabs to go travelling and had a cold for over a week. So, I had a couple of lemsips. No big deal!
Then I had a couple of drinks on NYE and proceeded to vomit for 24 hours. That one required quite a few paracetemol.
This time, I’ve done absolutely nothing and I’m sick again! And I’ve progressed to having those huge dilutable pain killers.

These are the kind of events that were responsible for me stopping popping pills and going to the doctors in the first place. I would catch something, try to fix it with some type of potion or lotion and by the time I was healed I’d have another problem! I got chicken pox three times (which I was told was impossible), I gained an allergy to shampoo (only on my hands, weirdly enough) and I assumed every mark or spot was life-threatening. After a flurry of various medical issues (and becoming old enough to have to pay for prescriptions) I decided to go straight edge, medicinally speaking.

So, that is what I’m enforcing again. No pills, no painkillers, no medicine and no doctors! I may have a fever, I can’t eat anything and I’m spending an unusual amount of time hugging the loo but I refuse to believe I’m ill.
Mind over matter, I say!


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