Living without health insurance is always a bit of an adventure. It's not pleasant, but I'm not on the bandwagon of demanding government-provided coverage because I am inherently mistrustful of the government and if this primary cycle has highlighted anything for me, it's that I definitely don't want my health (physical, mental, or sexual) being bandied about like a political football when only crazy people are playing the game.
The jokes just write themselves, folks.
But politics is not the point of my post.
No, I've been fighting an ailment that could quickly be cured by a $4 prescription if I had prescription coverage. But not having prescription coverage, I have to get more creative. More Asian.
So I was walking in my neighbourhood this week when I fortuitously ran into a woman who is an herbalist. She's also Chinese. I suspect she raises mogwai to sing to her, too, because in my fantasy, everyone lives up to their 80s movie stereotypes.
After some pleasantries about life, I told her my predicament and asked if she had any suggestions or remedies. In fact, she did and she sent me on my way with a recipe and some herbs and roots to make a magical panacea! I practically skipped home. Who needs insurance when you have the healing powers of mogwai?
Can't you see the ancient healing wisdom in these eyes?
I'm sure you know that phrase, "The cure is worse than the disease." I'm no linguistics expert, but I'm pretty sure the birth of that saying came from someone who turned to gremlin medicine when they couldn't afford their co-pay.
I noticed that the root powder had a certain aroma to it, but the smell became Sex Panther-esque after the whole thing came together.
That is the smell of health and wellness, my dear.
The taste is just as awful. Upon first sip, I promptly spit the contents into the sink, guzzled 32oz. of water, and resolved never to do that again.
And then it hit me: it's either this...or certain death.
Mmmmmmaybe that's a little dramatic.
But being branded one of America's uninsured millions, all of whom according to the modern media are surely doomed to lose limbs, expire yards from the ER, or be crippled under the weight of enormous debt (HA! Jokes on you, health care industry, law school beat you to that one!), I began to weigh my options.
So, now I'm voluntarily water-boarding myself with putrid Chinese herb tea twice daily. I throw back my head, open my throat and pour, praying to ALLTHEDEITIES that nothing hits my taste buds. Then I shudder, let a primal scream escape, take a breath, and do it all over again until the concoction is gone.
I think I'm already feeling some relief. Score one for Eastern medicine, I suppose. But honestly, I wouldn't be shocked if my cure emerges as a product of sheer willpower at this point; the drive not to give in and scrape together an extra $100 for an urgent care visit and the overwhelming desire to put myself through this tea ceremony from hell as few times as possible.
I'm going to stick with the nasty for a few more days to see if it works.
Because it's either this...or certain death.
