Monday, June 08, 2009

Sunday, June 07, 2009

Fibromyalgia

You hurt all over, all the time. I hurt all over, all the time.

You feel confused and can't trust your brain. I feel confused and can't trust my brain.

You call it Fibromyalgia. I call it Candida overgrowth.

You fork over big money for countless doctor bills. I gave up on doctors because doctors are clueless and their "expertise" only makes me worse.

You spend even more money for 15 different prescription drugs that only target your symptoms. I spend my time reading and researching, looking for the cause of the problem and its cure.

Your symptoms have no cause. My symptoms all have the same cause, which I have identified.

You suffer painful, crippling side effects from your prescription drugs. I changed my diet and suffer no side effects.

After ten or twenty years of treatment, you keep hurting, dying. After two weeks of treatment, I feel like a million bucks. (Well, maybe 700 grand.)

Fibromyalgia? Candida overgrowth? They're the same damn thing, but they exist in two separate worlds of thought. One of these diseases cannot be cured by the medical establishment's life-draining and expensive treatments. The other is not even recognized by the medical establishment but is easily cured by kooky "alternative" medicine, in conjunction with a little hard work and discipline from the sufferer.

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Role reversal

Tuesday, as I drove into Columbus (Dublin) to buy some raw, organic apple cider, I passed a man walking alongside Norton Road, at the Grove City Road intersection. Having spent my fair share of time over the last couple years hoping someone would stop to offer me a ride somewhere, I pulled off the road to ask him if he needed a ride. Even though he was walking south and I was driving north, knowing I would have to turn around and go out of my way, I didn't mind offering him a ride because I've been that guy so many times and I was in no hurry.

When he got in the car, I asked him where he was trying to go. Replying "Sunbury" or something like that, my immediate thought was that he was really in the wrong place and was walking even farther away from where he was trying to go because Sunbury is north or northeast of Columbus and he was southwest of Columbus. Even more strange, he thought he had been walking west, roughly parallel with Interstate 70.

To better understand his objective, I reached for a road atlas in the back of the car and opened it to the appropriate Ohio page so I could show him where we were, and also so he could show me where he was trying to go. After looking at the map, he pointed to a little spot called Gillivan, which I'd never heard of, even though it is in an area I'm pretty familiar with. (It's a couple miles from the truck stop where I met Vernon Mack last August.)

As I drove toward Gillivan, my 40ish passenger kind of cleared up my confusion regarding Sunbury. Apparently he was trying to get to a "Sunbury Retirement Home" (or something like that), where he was supposed to meet up with a girl he knew when he was younger, who works at the retirement home. Even though the guy was really clean cut and had decent clothes, it didn't take me long to realize he wasn't quite all there. Not crazy, but just not all there.

From I-70 west I used exit 81 north (State Route 29) toward US 42, then headed north on 42 toward the spot where Gillivan exists on the map. There was nothing there. So after several miles, instead of heading deeper into Amish (or Mennonite) country, I turned around and headed back toward the interstate, thinking maybe the retirement home is near the truck stops and fast food joints.

Nope.

We asked one of the workers at a gas station if they knew where the retirement home is. They'd never heard of Sunbury, but they did know of a retirement home in sorta-nearby West Jefferson. When the cashier said the name of the retirement home ("Arbors" I believe), my passenger seemed to have a change of heart; something to the effect of "Yeah, that's where I'm trying to go," even though he had never mentioned any word that remotely resembled 'Arbors' to me.

So we headed toward West Jefferson, which is nearly ten miles away from the truck stops (and nowhere near Gillivan). First, though, I took a short detour into London because after driving around aimlessly for over an hour, I was hungry for some Sonic (which I'm not really allowed to eat right now). I got us both something to eat at Sonic, then headed back toward West Jefferson.

Entering West Jeff from the west, I quickly spotted the retirement home. I doubted that it was the one he was looking for, but he wanted to go there, so I took him there. My passenger got out, feeling good about the prospect that he was in the right place, but he asked me to wait, which I didn't mind. After about ten minutes of waiting, though, I was sick of running around all over the place and waiting for him.

Not seeing him anywhere, I hesitantly decided to take off. Turning left (west) out of the parking lot to go back to the interstate and resume my errand, I quickly turned around because I realized I'd have to go several miles out of my way to get on the interstate that way. As I approached the retirement home again, I saw my rider walking near the parking lot, looking for me, so I stopped and asked him if he found the girl he was looking for.

Nope.

But he still seemed convinced he was in the right place. (Conversely, I was sure he wasn't in the right place, and now I'm not even sure the girl he was looking for exists.) Since he had previously indicated that he might want a ride back into Columbus, I asked him if he wanted me to take him there, but he decided to stay in West Jeff. He then thanked me for the ride and I took off toward Dublin.

I'm glad I stopped to offer the dude a ride and everything, and I would do it again, but man that was nonproductive and even kind of stressful. Basically I spent two hours running him around for probably nothing, ultimately ending up only 15 or 20 miles from where I found him.

To the people out there who read this because you met me by giving me a ride, consider yourself lucky. Seriously.

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Tuesday, June 02, 2009

The confusion of marriage

A tip to all females who have never been married: If you get married, make sure you marry someone you truly love; someone who truly loves you back.

Here's why: If you end up in a marriage that doesn't last, your new last name(s) will confuse all the people who knew you in the past when you show up on the future's version of Facebook. It might keep you from getting dates with some of them, too.

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