I rarely if ever take any medicines or pain killers of any type. Basically, any illness I have has to progress to the point that the doctor has to assure the wife that if I don't follow his orders, I'll slowly dry up and crumble into pieces. She naturally will then threaten me with the loss of all nookie privileges unless all medicine is taken exactly as prescribed. My normal instinct is to grumble and drag my feet as much as possible before finally relenting to their combined wills. Even then, I would have to be threatened with a day chock full of Vaseline and Richard Simmons before I would ever begrudgingly admit that the drugs had done me any good.
You are probably thinking that I'm one of those snobby medicine-haters who loves to throw his lack of drug-consumption in the faces of all the rest of you who were cursed with lesser health. My parents are that type; someday they?ll writhe in drug-free agony on their death beds, but with stubborn drug-free smiles stretched across their faces. That just isn?t me. I firmly believe that there are definitely times when medicines are required. For example, if I ever tumble a couple thousand feet off a mountain, bash myself silly on every single rock on the way down, and finally come to rest lying broken and battered in a pool of my own blood, please feel free to give me a couple of aspirin. I promise I won?t turn you down.
So why do I resist medicines? There are two big reasons. The first and less important reason is this: how many times have the doctors assured us that drug X is perfectly safe, only to find out years later that drug X actually causes something particularly unpleasant, like spontaneous combustion? I generally don?t think I?m paranoid or anything, but if neither my life nor the possibility of me having normal human sex is in any danger, then I tend to think that I can put up with a little discomfort or pain.
And that leads right into the second reason I don?t take many medicines: your body tends to hurt and/or malfunction when something is wrong and needs to be fixed. When I don?t feel good, I want to find the root cause and eliminate it. If your best friend frantically tries to warn you that the hot chick whose tongue is halfway down to your spleen is actually a man, wouldn?t you want to pause for a little while to at least consider what he has to say? It?s the same thing with my body. When it talks to me through pain, discomfort, or loss of ability, I find that I want to listen.
So it drives me out of my skull insane when I run into people who believe that there is a pill for everything that ails them. These people are everywhere. I just honestly can?t believe how many drugs people I know take. These aren?t old people with worn-out bodies, either. Some of these folks are young enough to be in the prime of their health, but every time they walk into the pharmacy, the guy behind the counter gets to buy his wife a new solitaire. Without a doubt they could decide to eat right and get their fat butts off the couch to exercise, but I guess it is just so much easier to pop their pills when they ache.
The worst part of all is that they like to constantly bitch about it, as though being in crappy health is a point of enormous pride in which everyone else has a keen interest. They are as bad as Jehovah?s Witnesses in that they have a mission to convert me. I don?t want to know how bad they feel and I don?t really give two craps about the lists of drugs that they?re taking. They never seem to notice my glazed-over eyes, the first clue that I quit listening half an hour ago. If I fart loudly while they are griping to me in my office, it really isn?t personal ? it?s just my heartfelt desire for them to go away taking physical form.
This is America. Please enjoy the freedom to grab your health by the collar and rape it with a splintered piece of knotty pine. But for the love of mercy have the good manners to keep it to yourself, please.
You are probably thinking that I'm one of those snobby medicine-haters who loves to throw his lack of drug-consumption in the faces of all the rest of you who were cursed with lesser health. My parents are that type; someday they?ll writhe in drug-free agony on their death beds, but with stubborn drug-free smiles stretched across their faces. That just isn?t me. I firmly believe that there are definitely times when medicines are required. For example, if I ever tumble a couple thousand feet off a mountain, bash myself silly on every single rock on the way down, and finally come to rest lying broken and battered in a pool of my own blood, please feel free to give me a couple of aspirin. I promise I won?t turn you down.
So why do I resist medicines? There are two big reasons. The first and less important reason is this: how many times have the doctors assured us that drug X is perfectly safe, only to find out years later that drug X actually causes something particularly unpleasant, like spontaneous combustion? I generally don?t think I?m paranoid or anything, but if neither my life nor the possibility of me having normal human sex is in any danger, then I tend to think that I can put up with a little discomfort or pain.
And that leads right into the second reason I don?t take many medicines: your body tends to hurt and/or malfunction when something is wrong and needs to be fixed. When I don?t feel good, I want to find the root cause and eliminate it. If your best friend frantically tries to warn you that the hot chick whose tongue is halfway down to your spleen is actually a man, wouldn?t you want to pause for a little while to at least consider what he has to say? It?s the same thing with my body. When it talks to me through pain, discomfort, or loss of ability, I find that I want to listen.
So it drives me out of my skull insane when I run into people who believe that there is a pill for everything that ails them. These people are everywhere. I just honestly can?t believe how many drugs people I know take. These aren?t old people with worn-out bodies, either. Some of these folks are young enough to be in the prime of their health, but every time they walk into the pharmacy, the guy behind the counter gets to buy his wife a new solitaire. Without a doubt they could decide to eat right and get their fat butts off the couch to exercise, but I guess it is just so much easier to pop their pills when they ache.
The worst part of all is that they like to constantly bitch about it, as though being in crappy health is a point of enormous pride in which everyone else has a keen interest. They are as bad as Jehovah?s Witnesses in that they have a mission to convert me. I don?t want to know how bad they feel and I don?t really give two craps about the lists of drugs that they?re taking. They never seem to notice my glazed-over eyes, the first clue that I quit listening half an hour ago. If I fart loudly while they are griping to me in my office, it really isn?t personal ? it?s just my heartfelt desire for them to go away taking physical form.
This is America. Please enjoy the freedom to grab your health by the collar and rape it with a splintered piece of knotty pine. But for the love of mercy have the good manners to keep it to yourself, please.