Because then you will see how your titanium stapled colon pays for their kids' horse jumping events in Del Mar. Which is totally cool, but pulls at all kinds of strings.
Then you start looking at who their friends are. Then you come to this page. A face of a little smiling girl who has been diagnosed with "gastritis caused by bacteria and anxiety". Which is basically what I had. But I had a cure in my house and I didn't take it. While I was in pain. I don't know why. Because I forgot, how weird is that?! But when I came home from getting shot with a titanium bullet, I knew that nothing had changed inside me when they clipped off my appendix---nothing! If I didn't do something quick I could end up with much further damage to my colon, and they would just keep going in and snipping more things out, eventually.
EM-1. Essential micro-organisms. Such a simple, benign, strange brew. But it could have saved me from going through that ridiculous, obnoxious event. When I came home from the operation, I still had the same pains that I had before I went in, just for shorter duration because the EM eliminates the pain of GI inflammation. It really is a silver bullet. IF ONLY I HAD REMEMBERED! But now it is seared into my brain how important it is, and also mineral solutions made by infusing certain herbs (nettle, oat straw, red clover, red raspberry)--- in order to maintain the balance of the nervo-immune system---they are so closely connected by hormone fluctuations as to be together as one.
If someone suffers from any form of chronic gastritis, they have nothing to lose by trying this stuff. If the alternative is surgery, save your gut by coating it with the most beneficial mixture of bacteria around. These guys are like a power surge of positive digestion, balancing out the corrosive effects of the negative microorganisms that are causing inflammation and acidosis, allowing your body to regain its balance, while you ensure to feed it plenty of nourishing broths and mineral solutions to rebuild your body.
It's funny thinking of all the GI doctors who would lose business if their patients used EM-1 instead of suffering interminably. The societal position of doctor is quite interesting. The image of the horse as plaything of the upper class is so stamped on my consciousness now. I don't think I would ever want to own a horse, for that upper level world is one that I try to stay away from. It is not my element.
I would like to describe this doctor for you, just for a moment, because this doctor had quite the apparition. It helps to first imagine in your head a "typical doctor". First, male, of course. Now you can choose old or young. Now the hair. Short, conservative. The face and skin color just run the full gamut. Now the nurses. Old and tired. Young and tired. Young and sweet and learning English. All faces and races. Now fill the hospital with all these myriad doctors and nurses criss-crossing. Now here's my doctor. Bonnie Raitt, but with black instead of red. Twinkly eyes and twinkly smile and rockstar attitude. Navy scrub pants, but not a scrub top, a grey hoodie pull-over, presumably over the scrub. Bonnie fucking Raitt. Her hair was dark dark slate and it had almost a wiry quality to it as it tumbled over her shoulders, perfectly framing her twinkly face. Her bangs were white, and they fountained out of a forehead swirl before parting ways as two white swooshes that blended into the rest of the dark flow. I remember thinking that that was a lot of fluff for a person who is supposed to be ultra-sanitary. No more hairnets and buzz clips for doctors, I suppose!
When I saw her at the follow-up appointment, the grey hoodie was replaced with a perfectly fitting denim jacket. Rockstar again. With flowing mane. Mane. That is the best way to describe the hair. It had a wiry quality to it the way a horse's mane has a wiry quality to it. And it split over her shoulders every time, with the same amount allotted for front and back every day. It knew where to lay to perfectly rockstar frame her face.
I envied her. Oh yes, I did. I envied her sanity. Her even-temperament and ability to bring home coin. I thought about how she was not able to stay home with her children, but it didn't matter one lick. I thought about how she had not been able to watch every moment of her child's baby and toddler-hood, but how that didn't matter. She is able to give her children anything, and so they travel to adventurous places and drive horses all around the country during their weeks of vacation time they get throughout the year. Their children will be perfectly groomed to continue on in a professional position that keeps their family comfortable and happy. So good for them, right?
Isn't this what makes the United States such a great country? That people can have beautiful lives and play with horses?
And what do we down here think about for our kids? That they will have some kind of talent that will allow them to create or produce works of art, or talent to start a business. Otherwise, will they be just like us, working for someone else just to pay the rent their whole life?
Maybe I should go back to University. Just to satisfy my ego's need for status.
My doctor's social status made me all jittery. And that's nothing. Nothing! Compared to the even higher classes. My nervousness around money and class is curious. Peeking into other people's lives is dangerous.
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