The problem is that I am an extremely healthy person. Healthy, ha, well, that's not the right word. I mean to say, that I have avoided corporal harm for 25 years. I have lived a pretty pain free life so far and going strong. My concept of pain is a pre-zit, a stubbed toe, an indian burn, retainers worn once every year, touching the "hot plate" at the mexican restaurant, and chapped lips. I don't think I have experienced anything truly painful. I mean I know what emotional pain is like when you lose the Mad Men episode you just downloaded or when your kindle dies but physical pain is not something I encounter often. However I've gotten pretty good at pretending it. I even remember doing it as a child. Which side is my appendix on? Well yes it is hurting quite a lot! And even as an adult I may have sometimes been a bit dramatic and embellished some "headaches" so I could use the excuse like everyone else. ("Its behind my eyes, and these temples! Oh its the temples!). Now as I find out that there really is a way for my brain to cause pain right behind my eyes, and I am vulnerable to this heinous torture, I repent. Dear baby cheeses, I repent.
I am nervous for when I have to encounter something actually painful. I have never broken a bone, had surgery (except for wisdom teeth removal and even then I was given pain killers that might have been used longer than necessary for especially "painful" days). What if I break a bone now? I can´t even imagine.
In Spain, pretty much everything is blamed on the weather. I said my head hurt and I got a "Es el tiempo Camille." Same with a cold I had in February. The flu? Weather. Seriously, we should just say this damn economic crisis is the weather's fault. But anyway, when I look for sympathy I find it's just a phone call away. I recommend everyone to move to a foreign country. The distance really elicits your mom's affection and sympathy. I called my mom when I had said flu this winter and she didn't say one thing about the weather, just "Oh my poor precious princess." And I thought, that's right, the poor precious princess! I may call her right now about this headache business.
A side story about "pain" in Spain (yes, sPAIN)... Last year at 3 a.m. on a Sunday morning I remember crying to a doctor at the emergency room pleading for some kind of pain medication. I had a bad ear infection. She just gave me high milligram IB Profen and a smirk. At the time I thought "Estas de cono!?" (Are you of the vagina?) Now that I think back on this, I would say this was a quite painful experience but then again I am comparing it to chapped lips and hangnails. So I'm not really sure if pain meds were really needed. Apparently my sobbing didn't convince her that they were. I might have even pulled the card, this isn't even my country and I would really appreciate if you would adhere to what I'm used to.... (Shame, I know). She obviously didn't realize she was talking to someone's precious princess. She did give me the common courtesy to not blame it on the weather though. To prove just how courteous this woman is, I saw her like 9 months later when I went to a family Christmas dinner and found out she was related to the family I am good friends with. She didn't even bring up my bawl fest. What a woman.
Anyway, I think I should be talking about Spain and the fact that I am leaving in less than two weeks. But I tend to focus on the right now. And it's headache. Which actually is receding now that I am away from hoopla. I hope my eyeballs and back of eyeballs never go through this again. I just don't think I could take it. I'm an epidural kind of girl.
Next post, will be the final farewell to Metropolitan Vigo, the best gym there ever was.
Next post, will be the final farewell to Metropolitan Vigo, the best gym there ever was.
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