Writingbolt's Creation

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I’m not an expert on the subject, but I’ve taken my share of medications over the years, more than the average human being, I presume. [Of course, as with X-number of matters, I could be wrong.] None of them were “recreational.” I never ingested anything to get high, fail to forget something bad or pretend something painful isn’t happening. And, from my experience, it would seem medication does more harm than good. It also seems to be like a bucket of water being thrown at a house fire; it won’t solve the problem, even if the intention is good.

What’s worse, every medication comes with a threat level and hazard warning. It may be said to help with this…but it also is likely to cause that side effect, which isn’t spelled out as “definitely lethal” but might as well be when the words “call your doctor” appear on the label. Why else would I be calling my doctor, who likely prescribed this medication, unless my life is in critical danger? Oh, but I consented to taking this medication…so that should leave the doctor off the hook for any suffering or death I face. Right? It’s my fault I have the problem that requires the medication. And, it’s my responsibility to take the medication as prescribed. The doctor is not at fault for side effects or health risks. He or she is just the distributor of what someone else made.

And, how does anyone get answers or justice from the makers of the medication? I guess you “seek legal counsel” and hope “compensation” makes up for the life you’ve lost. Does that make any freaking sense?!?! I’m inclined to be one of those people who says money does NOT buy happiness. So, no legal interjection for “compensation” is going to make up for a deformity, mental/emotional defect, disability or any number of other mishaps I’d rather not even ponder. And, when you boil everything down to who did what, I’m still held responsible for taking the medication. I did the deed, like Adam and Eve eating from that cursed tree. I didn’t have to listen to anyone or fall to temptation from any serpent. If I stab myself, no legal counsel is going to fix the damage done to my own life, no matter how you want to spin the case. Cast off all possible influences (and, using a modern term, influencERS), and you’re left with who did what.

In my somewhat limited experience, medications are, at best, good intentions. They’re like the promises people make when they either want to brush some beggar off or feel bad for someone and wish they could make the other person’s life better (but just cannot think of or supply a better solution). And, sort of like promises made by parents who just want their nagging child to shut up about whatever they want right now, when those promises are not met, often enough, there is a side effect of resentment and disappointment which manifests in a variety of ways, never good. Kids who are disappointed turn to other means of gratification, sometimes those “recreational drugs,” which only land them in other trouble and slap them with labels that only make matters worse in the future.

I’ve taken medications for anxiety and depression. Did they work? I have no idea, to be honest. I struggled to swallow them. I didn’t exactly feel good or more stable after taking them. I think I told myself I was getting better and that I needed to remain calm. I’m pretty sure I took them as prescribed. And, I know, for certain, I faced the negative, scary side effects. I suffered dry eyes (not being able to produce tears, even if I wanted to weep with all my emotional strength), internal bleeding and, at the last-straw-moment, I was put at risk of cardiac arrest. I’ve recently heard some of those “psych” drugs can make you even more eager to end your own life, initially. …But, if you can stick with them for a month or so, it gets better…supposedly. Great. So, maaaaybe, if I have a really great support system in my life, I can get through the scary trial period of torment and greater life risk so I can start feeling the positive results of taking that medication.

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NOTE: Let me pause right there and ask…

If my life had a great support system, not one supplied by an insurance-planned, financial-status-influenced health corporation, but a “normal” healthy family and friends, would I even be in this situation? Would I need medication?

In such instances, you start to ask yourself who is the problem? Who is to blame for my situation? And, the answers to such questions never seem quite clear, leaving me in perpetual distress.

Point the finger at yourself, and you only sink lower into self-loathing and doubt because no one will rescue you without “tough love” as they like to call it, if they even offer that. Point the finger at your parents, spouse or anyone else, and you’re that blaming sort of person who might as well be Captain Cooties on the elementary school playground, because you stink and are stupid. You will likely be repeatedly told you cannot change other people, only yourself. Well, how wonderful. It’s simply a matter of changing myself to resolve the problem. Now, if only I had a clear idea of what that entailed without hitting myself simply because someone told me to do just that.

From my own experience, I can say trying to sort out how to help myself–without feeling selfish, arrogant and all of the negative adjectives people like to thrust at me–has been like riding a rapidly flowing river laced with jagged rocks. A little prodding voice tells me to steer this way or that way. Another tells me how to position my paddle or bend my limbs. And, as I try to make all of these suggestions work in my favor, I get beat up and broken on the rocks and nearly drown in the icy water. That’s good living. Right? Wrong. Dead wrong…as in I’ll be dead if I try to process and apply everyone’s “good advice.”

Who do you listen to when fixing yourself? What faulty manager corrects him or herself without slipping into a little there-is-nothing-wrong-with-what-I-am-doing talk? How many historical figures have gone down on their own swords?…versus earning some cracked title for sticking to their instincts, however good or bad they might be, depending upon your perspective? Has anyone in history taken a sharp turn and become a different person, improving their own life and the lives of those around them? How many Scrooges do YOU know who wake up one day and start being the nicest person you ever met, after being a miserable miser? It’s a wonderful holiday story…but really?

I like to tell others to listen to their gut instinct…which I still think is good advice. Who better than your gut instinct to guide YOU? Yet, as much as I try to heed my own advice, my gut instinct isn’t a clear solution, either. My “instinct” seems as vexed as the rest of me. So, I’m rather lost within myself. The more time I spend sorting myself out, the more life passes me by, and I feel increasingly worse seeing and hearing about others supposedly achieving the happiness I wish I had.

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Most recently, I’ve been addressed about my blood pressure. News flash. High blood pressure runs in the family. And, despite some lousy life choices by my horribly-habitual family, they’ve survived longer than others who supposedly took care of themselves.

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NOTE: Which raises another meaning-of-life question. Is death, not murder or suicide, actually a ticket out of this life, which may be defined as a punishment served instead of a gift? Are people dying young because–as Billy Joel once sang–they were…good? Is this life a prison sentence?

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I’ve taken a few blood-related medications with sufficient apprehension and concern. And, if I may be honest without saying too much, the results have not been great…even confusing, like most of my life. I’ve struggled with swallowing, had a dangerously elevated pulse, felt fatigued, felt like a vampire in sunlight, suffered strange and scary skin developments and increased discomfort in cold rooms (even if no one else complains…except about me complaining to them). And, when I get tested to see how my numbers look, I get mixed results and advice to keep adjusting my life in one way or another. I’ve read up on how to test myself and had “medical professionals” tell me my research was pointless or flawed before they went about testing and treating me however they felt legally able.

I have issues with my eyesight. Based upon my opinions from what my financial status can afford, my eyesight is just fine–if not “perfect”–and normal for my age. Yet, I clearly (or unclearly if you consider the fog in my left eye and the angular distortion in my right) have a problem in both eyes. I’m struggling, right now, to see the words I am typing. Solutions? Laser surgery MIGHT resolve one issue and cause other discomfort, possible future issues. I’ve been told blood pressure is a factor. Well, let’s go right back up this document and look at the details on that matter. It’s genetic. I take medication to fight it…and still lose, in part, because my life is riddled with sources of stress I cannot discard or ditch.

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NOTE: If you were a distressed parent up to your nose in agitation from your kids–I am not one of those–could you just dump your kids to ease your mind? No. Could you pass them off to someone else to care for them while you go on living with great ease of mind? No. You might as well NOT be a parent.

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I’m never right with everyone. I’m never sufficient. One doctor might say I’m okay…while another, who needs to see me for some other yet somehow related reason, says I need to fix something before I can get their help. And, even after doing as directed to fix that something, I come up short. My numbers still are not great. So…I can’t get the help I need? Well, it seems to depend upon what risk the doctor is willing to take. And, that seems to be somehow financially laced.

I suppose, if I slap a stack of cash on the service counter, I’d be speaking with someone less hesitant. But, would the care actually be any better?…or just a more “brand-name” variety of the same failure? [You know how parents and kids quarrel over buying brand-name products, which are more often (not always) only more colorful and expensive than better tasting or quality. And, even doctors will suggest getting a “generic” version of medication to reduce the cost of treatment.]

So…in short, every life decision is some sort of time bomb we humans have to defuse at our own risk.

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NOTE: If you’re lucky–and luck certainly seems to play a part in this life (unless that, too, is an illusion)–you are born with great genetic stats and succeed socially so you’re never short of good company. Or, you succeed in life because your genetic code makes you the alpha predator who can easily capitalize on the weaknesses of others, making you the richest and most powerful human on the planet, without conscience. And, people like that, without conscience, seem like blessed or cursed souls (if they even have souls) who somehow eluded the punishment faced by Adam and Eve. They don’t worry about being nude or interactions with other animals. They act purely on “what can I do if I care about nothing?” If, like the best Vulcan in Star Trek, you could live your life without any emotional distress, no guilt or worry whatsoever, would you be a financial ringmaster capable of treating lives like computer chips? That’s the best metaphor I can come up with, right now, without overloading my own organic brain.

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And, how does medication help with that? It doesn’t. You can’t mix a potion to defuse a bomb. You’re not a pretty-boy ego-maniac with a bad mullet and “dad jeans” who claims he can do anything he chooses. Neither am I.

Think about this.

When you regularly suffer from headaches (not just have one rare headache because of a really bad day), does whatever you take to relieve that solve the problem…permanently? Or, do you have to keep re-medicating and hoping the problem goes away, again and again?

Pain killers and inflamatory relieving agents are often enough safe in limited doses. If you take a small dose for a short time, you can lessen or even knock out all of the discomfort until any swelling goes away. Let the swelling be a visual sign of when you need to treat some (not all) matters.

But, sometimes, the pain we hate to face is actually a fair beacon or signal to heed while working on other methods of recovery. If we feel no pain, how do we know we still need to tread carefully? If you felt no pain while walking across a floor of needles, you might bleed to death before you realize you’re killing yourself. Some people start to think they should never feel “pain” and take the stuff too often; that’s called overdosing (or addiction).

Pain is often like fear. It can help motivate us to take necessary action (or, as some say, be brave in the face of fear). Pain alerts us to something that needs treatment or tender-loving care. If you ignore pain or think it’s just some pathetic person crying out like a scrawny, pasty-faced coward in the face of a muscular, healthy jock, you’re likely to further harm yourself (and make those around you miserable, consequentially). Like tolerance in other areas of life, we need to cope with some measure of temporary pain. Yet, if pain lingers too long, that should be a sign we are not treating the problem properly. [Is this really any different than a computer giving you alerts for how well your anti-virus software is working or if your resources are too low to run the software you want to use, requiring a reboot or drive maintenance?]

I see commercials about anti-acid and heartburn treatments for people who suffer from poor digestion…why? Because they cannot sit, relax and enjoy the food they are ingesting.

I know myself; I cannot eat tuna fish or macaroni-and-cheese without sitting. If I do, my stomach revolts, and I get horrible, frightening chest pains. What sort of curse is this?! Yeah. It sucks. BUT, if I sit down, relax and enjoy those foods, I’m good. I’m not going to start popping tablets or guzzling pink goo just so I can stand at a party and eat tuna fish.

[I like to think this pain or “curse” from certain foods is like a part of my genetics/astrology. If you play certain video games, you know every character you can play has their strengths and weaknesses, just as we have likes and dislikes (some of which change with time and circumstance). Right now, I’m thinking of those amusing Jumanji movies (with the lovely Karen Gillan). One of the weaknesses for Kevin Hart’s in-game character is cake. Some people have food allergies. I doubt you can pop a pill or drink a potion that permanently takes that hardship away. No character in any fairy tale or Greek myth could permanently alter their existence without some god or goddess jabbing a finger into the situation. And, even then, the god or goddess might have a change of heart–typically after the mortal dies–and…oh, I don’t know, place the deceased among the stars, adding them to that long list of branches in the Abraham family tree. You know…that Abraham who is told by some higher power to look at the stars and see how many offspring or descendants he will have.]

Now, try telling that to whoever buys into those quick-fix tablets and bottled potions. They’re guzzling and popping those things to relieve a “chronic” problem…and it’s like putting a non-waterproof bandage on a wet gash. Good luck, stranger who doesn’t know right from wrong (who doesn’t listen to their own body). Forget all those quick fixes and learn to take your time when eating and/or drinking. Or, get a different job/social life…but that’s probably asking too much. No one can just change to a less-stressful job and social circle…can they?

[And, that’s where/why those product lines attack like legal-service vultures. Attention digestive aids; your mission is to strike those who cannot slow themselves down to enjoy a heavy meal. Give them false hope and temporary relief until overdosing on you causes them other harm.]

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NOTE: I shouldn’t have to be denied care if someone, in their heart, is willing to help me. I shouldn’t have to stop helping someone else because my boss tells me it’s not financially right in their mind. Nor should anyone be deceived into thinking anything made by our own hands is capable of solving a problem that might very well have come from a higher power’s decision. As much as humans try and like to think they have scientific control over everything, not every aspect of life is a social-media tool (a flimsy code name for computer-driven life or artificial intelligence).

And, if it’s not a matter of financial or legal concern, if my current health denies me treatment, then I deserve to die. Forget all your medical lingo and good advice. It’s too late for me. Or, that concern isn’t going to be resolved in this lifetime. My genetic stats suck, even if you think my eyes are charming or my face is handsome. My relationships suck. I apparently suck at being the good friend some have even dared to call me. So far, I’ve failed to find love and happiness, even without “romantic love” in the picture. I can be the nicest person I know, and I’m still going to fall short somewhere. [I certainly don’t want to be the biggest jerk, even if some have called me that, too, for opening my big mouth. I have a conscience.]

Don’t make me wait weeks, months or even a year to see someone or get treatment because either my financial details don’t flash the word RICH or because my genetic fate is too scary to process. Don’t tell me everything will be okay if it’s not.

You wonder why it’s such a shock when the celebrity you think is doing just great suddenly dies? It’s because you’re not seeing the real picture, and neither is the medical-assessment staff who put off treatment or hastily treat the wrong way (maybe because they simply don’t know a better way…and they’re human, like you and me…if you’re not an artificial intelligence reading these words).

But, sure, if we cast all the scary or unpleasant facts aside, if we ignore that precious science so many think is worth investing a fortune and countless hours of their precious lives, we should all go on living as long and as well as we can. And, death shouldn’t be a shock (nor something to fear and think we can fend off with proper financial planning).

Oh, if only life was that simple.

NOTE: One problem we CAN work on and resolve ourselves is communication. ‘Not acquiring the latest device to get the best clarity of video or voice while, maybe, interacting with someone near or far away…but actually discussing life’s ups and downs openly and compassionately without concern for time and money. Working together because we can. Not dividing and clashing with each other because we’re selfish and conditioned to give up trying, conditioned to believe we only need to pamper and/or treat ourselves until we’re flat broke and begging for more relief from living.]

NOTE: If getting a shot or taking a pill (or getting tied up in a riddle of financial planning) is going to bar you from living your life while it’s supposed to be improving your life…what the freaking foog are we doing here???!!! What kind of life and world is this? I really do start to wonder if this life is…prison.

And, NOTE: Television is full of shit. All forms of video-viewing. If you’re not someone acting like a fool on your own video-recording device to somehow call that a lucrative acting career, you’re a zombie living off whatever videos are “placed in your feed” like a cow coming to a trough to drink polluted or drug-laced water. Even members of my own family, people I like to think have more good sense, have turned to me and flashed their portable viewers to show what recently was fed to them. I’m inclined to think they do this out of sheer futility, not knowing what else to do with their disappointing lives, littered with distress. [I’d sure hate myself more if I did the same to them…and I doubt they’d give me the time and attention, even then, to process what I show them.

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Do I sound like an “angry old man?” I sure feel like one.

Pfft. Whatever.

I doubt I’ll still be living when and if humans ever get smart enough to care for each other without over-priced and faulty products and treatment “plans.”

If I’m optimistic, unlike H. G. Wells after facing World War 2, there’s hope, and, after I’m dead, the world will be that heavenly place (ON Earth). Sort of like Star Wars, when the Jedi say they will get stronger after an enemy slays them, the world seems to get better or, at least, change, when I leave it alone or go elsewhere. It’s like “It’s a Wonderful Life”…except this Stewart needs to ignore the angels without wings and jump off that bridge…or move to another solar system where my thoughts make more sense.

If I cave to my pessimistic (or, as some say, cynical) side, humanity is doomed sooner than they can reach the sensible solution…even if that means our kind continues to exist and wreck the planet for the next 2-6 thousand years before it’s too damaged to recover. And, by then, those with all of the monopolies will have likely turned “life” into a synthetic theme park before they safely leave the planet…only to get “assimilated” or destroyed (like weeds) by some alien species they thought would make them royalty.

[I hear ya, H. G. These people suck. And, we’re not much better. At least, we have caved to pressure, even if we thought we were smart. But, they told us we were smart. We didn’t call ourselves smart. At least, not first.]

No solar panels or wind farms (or medications) are going solve the problems people continue to (and are conditioned to) ignore. That’s all trendy investment B.S., just like bomb shelters used to be. There are other problems afoot that also need attention, not just the current/on-going fear of “global warming” or the latest virus to prod the cattle into a panic (*cough* the black plague…*sneeze* smallpox…*sniffle* polio…*barf* cancer in all of its vague, elusive forms, no matter how many charity drives collect dwindling funds to “fight” it).

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NOTE: You want another small example or visual demonstration of human foolishness and how quick-fix/financially supplied medication cannot resolve the problem? I was just recently watching one of the many reality-TV series in which sad, conflicted people are convinced competing against other sad, conflicted people will earn them fame, fortune and/or happiness (love, in some cases). The “team” that lost, that night, wept not for what fell apart during competition but for the relationships they were building and now leaving to return to their everyday lives. The thing-s they would miss most were the people they met on the show.

[I’m actually amazed the show even aired that confession; don’t they want every contestant to leave with the simple belief that they had the time of their lives and would recommend the competition to everyone? The mere fact this small confession gave me a minor epiphany…is a modern miracle.]

Don’t you see? It’s not the glamor of falsely-promised prizes that matters. It’s not the quick-fix that makes life better. It’s the relationships we cultivate. And, if you cannot establish those relationships, this life is misery; health suffers in consequence. Poor health may be a side effect of lousy social structure/misfortune. It doesn’t take a PhD in any science to see that. [Or, maybe, some of us actually have PhD-worthy brains without acquiring that prized piece of paper!]

Gawd! Help those people who make spectacles of themselves on TV (and online)! Help ME, too! If there is any good force in the world, we should all find and maintain good friendships, not meet good people and then let them drift away in the night. I’ve tried and failed so often to stay in contact with people I thought would be good friends. It’s depressing and discouraging (to fail and lose those connections), and my health is suffering, in consequence.

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Medication, prescription or otherwise, is just the tip of the iceberg. And, we are the mortal Titanic.

[I may have gone *overboard* with the length of this post and *drifting off course.* I believe in souls and higher powers, I am fairly certain I do not have full control of my life, whether the lack is intended by the “heavens” or forced by human authority/financial power. But, I’m only human.]

On an unrelated note….I’d like to edit the color of my text in this post, but WordPress is not allowing that, for some reason, right now!!  And, that’s really irritating.