Health: physical and mental well-being; soundness; freedom from defect, pain, or disease; normality of mental and physical functions.
I'm pretty sure that there is something seriously wrong with my body. Deep down inside a venomous tumor has awakened from a deep slumber and is growing quickly, inexorably marching toward total victory over my pathetic normal cells. Or maybe I have contracted an extremely rare disease, found only in a tiny corner of a remote tropical archipelago. There is no known cure. I have all of the symptoms, that's for sure. Maybe the delicate chemistry of my brain is beginning to short circuit, weird impulses surging erratically through deteriorating nerves. Maybe all three are happening at once!
Dear God, not me, please not me. Why can't this happen to someone else?
When I was in The Jungle I had a mild case of, ahem, Montezuma's Revenge. I'm sure it didn't have anything to do with the local food I bought from street vendors cooking with unwashed hands. Or the begonia stalk that I sucked the moisture out of while on a jungle walk. Our guide, Israel, was showing SuperK and I how it was possible to survive in the jungle if we got lost. The mere thought of being lost in The Jungle, where the average native plant could beat me up, probably got The Diarrhea up and running. As I sucked on the begonia, I thought: "This doesn't seem like a very good idea."
If I don't feel well I assume that the prognosis is horrible. I assume I'm going to die. An unhealthy obsession with my own health is part and parcel of being totally consumed with my own being. And it segues nicely with the belief that I can go through life pain free.
Yeah. That sounds good. Pain free.
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