My body is a misaligned contraption of ceaseless malfunctioning parts. If there is a strange little body part that few have become acquainted with, mine will have suffered some malady as odd as the body part itself. If ever there were an unbelievable ailment, injury, or disorder in life, I will have lived it.
Take for example, my inflammation disease. It has gone from strong-arming me into a wheelchair for nearly 5 years to subsiding completely in the daylight hours permitting me to jog three miles a day and body build with competitive moxie – but only a short four years; then return it did –with a vengeance. It behaves akin to a lover’s headache. After repetitive actions of which I become weary, I began to notice this rising twitter of pain coming from a very predictable hip. It then spreads at will to any gullible body joint creating an ear-wrenching cacophonic swell of pain that requires me to utterly stop life and cover my ears while I practice Lamaze.
I once had an infected goose bump – on my lip. The observant friend will notice its remains – a tiny red dot that I long since quit covering with makeup. I shouldn’t have put my wet lip next to that frozen lamp-post, but they told the greenhorn southerner it would warm me up. It gave me a mustache shaped burn and an infected goose bump.
My mouth collects spit between my upper lip and my teeth. I cannot quietly swallow it away as it must drip down my protruding incisors and be caught by reaching my tongue out of my mouth and scooping it in. Gross, I know. It is caused by a gland, when stressed, secretes excess dribble. It is only stressed when it is imperative that I impress someone. At other times of grave importance, it completely dries up, causing my lip to stick to my teeth in a perpetual Goofey smile. This condition requires manual intervention – namely the finger.
I have a vein in my eye. Not like your vein. One early morning about 5 years ago I woke up thinking I had a worm trying to eat my eye. It was protruding from between my lashes and hurt like the dickens. Three doctors later and after six medications failures – no one knows what it is called, how it got there or why it behaves as it does. It serves one good purpose. It predicts a urinary tract infection two-three days before it occurs, without fail. It is excruciating when it flairs and gives me that junkie appearance but I get that Cipro in the nick of time.
I have a scar on my abdomen. It might as well be a zipper as it has been opened no less than 9 times for various reasons, some of which are too bizarre to name. A hair follicle survived in this scar. It grows sideways through my skin, weaving in and out like a needle and medical stitch. I can only pull it out after two weaves. If I wait for three, it gets infected.
I once had poison ivy all over my body. I built a boat docking station in a lake with little trees that grew around the shoreline. The lush summer foliage of Hot Springs, Arkansas looked all the same to me. Had I known, I probably would not have done so in a bikini. I have two scars from the ordeal. One, on my thigh – okay – I think I will not finish that one.
I thought of this whole mess about my infirmed flesh and bones as I sit here tonight with some kind of “thingy” in my nose. It is high in my right nostril and makes me sneeze – over and over. It itches, burns, feels dried, stuck, flappy, and enlarged. I suppose, after three weeks, I had better see an Eye, Nose, and Throat doctor – but I am not worried. It will never be something common – like allergies or a nodule that needs removing just another oddity of nature for which there is no explanation, no cure, grows strangely, or perhaps, since it appeared at the same time my gray hair is growing out – it will predict the perfect time for coloring my roots.
