Everyone Has Pus to Deal With (Blog #245)

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Currently it’s just after midnight, I’ve only been awake for ten hours, and I’m worn to a frazzle. I honestly haven’t done much–I went for a walk, attended improv class, bought groceries–but my energy level is squat. (Squat, I say.) Since I tend to obsess about my health, this only concerns me–a lot. Logically I can say that my body feels so much better than a week ago and that my cough has disappeared, so I must be getting better. But logic doesn’t do much good around here–in my brain, that is. All I can think of are the hundred and one reasons why something must be wrong. Maybe I’m not taking enough vitamins. Maybe I’m taking too many vitamins. (That could be it.) Maybe I’m pregnant–my sister says being pregnant can really drain a person.

Honestly, I want to slap myself. Get a grip, Marcus.

I’m not sure where I got the idea that I need to figure my body out. I mean, I think it’s a good idea to be educated about a few things, take a vitamin c every now and then. But in my experience, my body seems to be able to handle most problems on its own. I mean, for an entire year I ran around with little warts on my face, trying everything under the sun to get rid of them. (The internet said to try duct tape!) I think my dermatologist was half-convinced I had HIV because my immune system wasn’t recognizing the invaders on my pretty face. Well, I got tested and was negative. Then one day the warts just went away. Who knows what happened? Maybe my body was just waiting for me to quit trying so hard.

I can just hear it saying, “Would you stop looking over my shoulder and let me do my job, please?”

I guess I have a really hard time with that, letting go of control. I really think a rational human being would say, “Of course I’m tired–I’m healing–that takes energy. I know–here’s an idea–I’ll sleep more!” Like, it could be that simple. Instead I want to complicate things, spend an hour on the internet trying to diagnose myself. This, of course, is a terrible idea. Tonight in improv class I noticed my brain was offline. I felt kind of foggy and couldn’t think of a single funny or witty thing to say. (I still can’t.) Anyway, if you Google “tired, brain fog” and click on more than one article, you’ll walk away wondering how you’re even alive. It’s like I have to tell myself, Step away from the internet, Marcus.

Step away from the internet.

About ten years ago I saw an acupuncturist and Chinese medicine doctor who gave me a magic powder that was supposed to “lock in” health. “Take this on a day when you feel really great,” she said. Well, I never took it. Maybe I just have high standards, but I kept thinking, I could feel better. (I still think that.) So I guess if I weren’t worried about feeling tired, I’d be worried about my allergies, or my high cholesterol, or the fact that my ears crackle and pop sometimes, even though my ear, nose, and throat doctor said, “You’re normal. That’s the way God made you.” Quite frankly, that’s a hard pill for me to swallow, the idea that I’m normal and okay, that it’s normal to always have something going on because the body is forever adapting to an ever-changing environment.

I know we all worry about our health. Both my sister and my mother have been worried about their cholesterol lately. My mom is battling cancer. As of today, my dad is dealing with allergies or a cold, and he has a whole list of other problems as daily struggles–diabetes, high blood pressure, you name it. But if you were to ask him how he’s doing, he’d smile and say, “If I were any better, I’d be twins.” Then there’s his son, who takes to the internet each night to fret about being tired. Honestly, I’m not sure which is better–sweeping your problems under the rug or airing them out on the front porch. Once again, it’s probably a matter of balance.

I’ve been thinking a lot today about community, thinking I could use some more of it. I recently finished re-listening to a Caroline Myss lecture, and she said that the process of growth and self-empowerment first looks like separating from people (in order to find your inner strength), but later looks like reconnecting with them (because life isn’t just about you). Personally, I know I try to do a lot on my own–figure out my problems, whatever. I’m rather independent. And whereas that feels familiar to me, it’s also exhausting, and I’m starting to believe that’s because we’re simply not created that way. Rather, we’re tribal creatures–we’re meant to connect with each other.

This afternoon I ran into our next door neighbor Carree. She pulled up in her Hyundai as I was going for my walk, and since I have a Hyundai too, I couldn’t help but start a conversation about our vehicles. (Incidentally, we both love our Hyundais.) Anyway, we started talking about the blog, and things got real pretty quick. I said, “I’m not sure why I’m so dedicated to it, but I really believe it’s the most important and transformative thing I’ve ever done. Still, it’s hard, working through all your shit every day.” Carree said we all do what my dad does, put on a face and say we couldn’t be better. “But we all have things we’re working though,” she said. “We all have wounds that fester, pus that bubbles up. [Carree’s a nurse.] You either deal with it now or you deal with it later.”

Then she said, “If you ever want to talk, I’m right next door.”

Our burdens are lighter when we share them.

Personally, I don’t think it was an accident that I ran into Carree on the same day I was feeling a little isolated. (I mean, we never run into each other.) I guess it’s easy to assume everyone else has it together, to see your neighbors in their new cars or the celebrity on television and assume they don’t have any problems, that they never have days when every part of them feels like throwing in the towel. And yet everyone has something going on. Everyone worries, struggles, and falls apart at times. Everyone has pus to deal with. But I’m reminded that we truly are all in this together and that our burdens are lighter when we share them. What’s more, there are people out there who want to connect with us, people closer than we think.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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The deepest waters are the only ones capable of carrying you home.

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My Fickle Mistress (Blog #240)

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This afternoon I went to a natural health food store in search of vitamins to heal my sinus infection and wanted to slit my wrists within two minutes of walking in the door. You know how employees try to be helpful. Well, the lady working the front desk started asking all these questions. What seems to be the problem? What’s wrong with you? So I told her about my sinus infection, and she was off and running, picking up bottles of anti-allergy pills and probiotics. “But we need to get to the root of the problem,” she said. “It’s probably your house. I had one lady whose house was filled with mold. Maybe that’s your problem–you’re house sick.”

“Well, I’ve lived in three different houses in the last year and have been sick in every one of them, so I don’t think that’s it.”

Then she started talking about the need for regular elimination. I thought, I swear, I just met this person, and she’s already talking about my bowel movements. “That’s not a problem,” I said. “I’m very regular.” Refusing to quit, she picked up a book about fasting that looked like it came over on the Mayflower. “I was just reading about what a miracle fasting is–it’ll even cure asthma.” I’m pretty sure I rolled my eyes. “That’s perfect–just don’t eat.”

“Exactly,” she said.

Well–thank god–another customer asked for her help, and that gave me a chance to breathe. Y’all, I hope I’m not coming across like a total ass, but I get so frustrated with “those people” who work at health food stores. I mean, not all of them, but you know the ones–the ones who walk around with their noses in the air because their underwear is made out of hemp and they haven’t eaten a donut since Carter was president. Like, this lady asked me about my diet and actually said, “You don’t eat dairy, DO YOU?” I mean, I’m all for cutting out certain foods to be healthier, and I’ll be the first to admit that I diet for vanity, but don’t act like you’re better than me because you don’t put milk in your organic coffee.

Since I actually showed up with a list of products suggested in the sinus book I’ve been reading, I looked around the store for a while. The main product I was looking for was a particular type of garlic, since garlic is supposed to be a natural antibiotic and anti-fungal. Well, the store didn’t have it. “But we have all these other types of garlic right over here,” the lady said. “I have one customer who swears by fenugreek and thyme. Now where did THAT bottle go? We must be out–I’ll call our supplier.”

“You don’t have to,” I said, “I’m not going to buy it. I’m really more interested in the garlic.”

She picked up the phone. “We’ll need some eventually.”

Frustrated on every level, I left the store. I guess part of it was that I’ve spent so much time and money in stores like that one over the years. Everyone promises their favorite product will help you, and when you’re sick, you’ll believe anything. Cod liver oil is different than snake oil, right? Oh, it’s not? That’s okay, you can still have my money. Sadly, most the things I’ve purchased haven’t made a dramatic difference. Y’all, I didn’t set out to be such a cynic. But–honestly–I’ve had dozens upon dozens of sinus infections over the last twenty years–I’ve been sick with this sinus infection for six weeks–don’t tell me I’d suddenly be better if I squirted grapefruit seed extract up my nose. (I’ve already tried that.) Also, the last thing I need is for a total stranger to judge me for going to a medical doctor by saying, “You took an antibiotic?!”

As if being sick were my fault because I did.

For a while I considered driving to Fayetteville to look for that specific brand of garlic, then I considered ditching the whole project and ordering everything online. But something said go to The Vitamin Shoppe, so that’s what I did. Y’all, it was perfect. The girl behind the counter said hello but didn’t once ask if she could help. Rather, she left me alone for an entire hour, during which I consulted the list on my phone, looked around the shelves, and decided what to do. During the process, I calmed down about the lady at the other place and decided I didn’t have to have that one brand of garlic. I thought, I’m just going to do the best I can. Besides, this isn’t magic–it’s magnesium.

When it was all said and done, I had eight bottles of stuff, give or take. Thankfully, except for the Vitamin C, it was all cheaper than I’d anticipated, and some of it was even on sale for Black Friday. Still, I was a bit overwhelmed by all the bottles (I’ve done it again–I’m one of those people), so I swung by Walmart on the way home to get a pill caddy to organize everything. (I also swung by my aunt’s to do some odd jobs and took the above photo with her dog, Nick.) Anyway, you know what kind of pill caddy I’m talking about–the color-coded kind for every day of the week, the kind both my parents have that I’ve previously looked down upon.

Well shit. Now I’m one of THOSE PEOPLE too.

When I got home I organized my pill caddy and watched The National Dog Show by Purina with my parents. (It’s a sexy life, but someone’s gotta live it.) As of ten minutes ago, I’ve taken two fists full of vitamins, and I’m currently convinced I wasted my money this afternoon. I don’t feel a bit better. I mean, I’m hopeful, but what if this doesn’t work either?

Bodies are fickle mistresses.

This morning my friend Elisabeth sent me a beautiful devotion about not beating yourself when you get sick. It quoted the writer Flannery O’Connor as referring to her battle with lupus as “one of God’s mercies.” To me this means that seen correctly, a challenge can be a great teacher. This afternoon my dad spoke with a long-lost family friend and found out he’d been paralyzed from the chest down. When it first happened our friend was bitter, but he told my dad that prayer had become really important to him. Now he says, “If I had to choose between prayer and having my legs back, I’d choose prayer.” So even as I get irritated with store clerks and swallowing fists full of vitamins, I’m trying to remember that we all have our difficulties and teachers. What’s more, I’m reminded that bodies are fickle mistresses–they give and they take away. But I do believe that some things are more faithful than that, or at least give more than a body every could.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Whereas I've always pictured patience as a sweet, smiling, long-haired lady in a white dress, I'm coming to see her as a frumpy, worn-out old broad with three chins. You know--sturdy--someone who's been through the ringer and lived to tell about it.

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