I don’t know. I’m one of those people.
Ever since I was little, whenever I get sick, as long as I feel my body can get through it, I don’t think about seeing a doctor or taking medicine.
I remember getting a cold in elementary school and not even realizing I had a fever. My teacher was the one who took me to get medicine. Another time, my dad was very busy. He knew I had a cold and told me to go to the clinic by myself to see a doctor and get medicine—he asked me whether I had gone to get it, and the next second I fainted.
I remember another time in high school. Because I did not take medicine early in the cold, I tried to get through it with my immune system. I ended up turning it into pneumonia and stayed home to rest for more than half a month.
I also remember something similar happening in college. My roommate’s mother happened to come visit her and noticed how I was doing. Like a family member, she reminded me to take my medicine and eat on time—I was already too thin. How could I be sick and not eat…?
…
So far, I can count on one hand the number of times I have gone to the hospital because I personally wanted to.
Not liking medicine is not because someone influenced me. It has simply been my habit for a long time.
I still remember one time I got sick before I started school. I thought the medicine was bitter and did not want to take it, but the adults would not let it go. They kept talking me into putting the water and medicine in my mouth—they watched as I put the medicine in my mouth and took a sip of water.
But I was only holding it in my mouth. A few seconds later, I slipped away and ran to a corner where they could not see me and where no one else was. I spit out the medicine and water.
Is medicine really bitter? Not every medicine is bitter, right?
But I think that experience of spitting out the medicine must have affected my attitude toward taking medicine to some extent. What kind of little kid would dare to defy the adults like that? (Me.
Maybe I simply feel, subjectively, that medicine is bitter. So I refuse to take it even when I know it would help me recover.
Sometimes I think that, just as I avoid medicine because I’m afraid of bitterness, I can hardly drink bitter coffee either. I also rarely eat foods with a strong matcha taste, or bitter melon… Hmm. If someone asked me what foods I avoid, my answer might be “bitter foods” (though “lamb with any gamey smell at all” would also be a possible answer).
/
Just as I trust my intuition, I also trust the feelings my body gives me. It isn’t only that fear of bitterness shapes my attitude toward medicine; my body also tells me whether the environment I’m in is good for me.
For example, before I chose to quit my job, the “obvious weight loss” that other people noticed was a second confirmation of how I felt.
I used to think I was being overly sensitive. Whenever something small happened, the irritation in my mind would come out and pull at me. To calm it down, I would analyze everything in my head and try to use every bit of reason I had to sort out what was going on.
But I did not know then that the body knows more than the mind. This unnamed way of thinking that comes from the body is really important to us.
The five senses, breathing, the heartbeat… every detail connected to the body has something wonderful about it. (Interesting~
P.S. Written today, while recovering from a sore throat 👉 a cold 👉 a low fever.