Sometimes I write a comment in response to someone else’s comment and it has so much content that it really should be a post of its own. This is one such comment with….hmmm….a few modifications.
I know!
I KNOW!!
But being macho is not just a male trait, I’m female and am just as guilty.
I don’t want to be seen as a ‘WUSS’ or have the label ‘HYPOCHONDRIAC’, but that’s no excuse for dancing all night on a broken foot and boasting about it to the technician putting the cast on at 2:00 am.
The truth is that the nagging messages we get from our bodies are pleas for help.
Years of masking acid reflux with a bottle of Tums…a lifetime of drinking Coke even when it will melt a nail overnight…a nagging headache that just won’t go away…shortness of breath after climbing the stairs each night…
My body speaks to me constantly, begging for mercy, but I’m so busy I deliberately tune it out. I’ve become entrenched in the habit of ignoring the messages and it’s more comfortable to live in pain than to make an appointment with a doctor.
My suffering has grown to status symbol importance, like MacDonald’s golden arches, and I constantly remind all within hearing that “My Back is KILLING ME!” when, in truth, it is me killing my back.
And, all the while, my body has been building a backlog of stress from the pain and is reacting by dumping more acid into my stomach, increasing my heart rate, and keeping me awake at night so I can’t heal.
Then…when something breaks and can’t be fixed I proudly say such things as, “I haven’t been to the doctor in 30 years! Never been sick a day in my life! How could this happen to me???” It would be more truthful to say, “Why didn’t I pay attention to the signs and take care of this before it reached epic proportions? I guess I brought this all on myself.”
The funny thing is, although I feel that I can’t afford the time or expense for my own medical issues, I take my pets to the vet if they don’t eat right for a few days, or they mope around like they don’t feel well. But I never consider the owner of the pet. What will happen to them if I can’t get up at feed time or take them out?
I know maintenance is necessary for other things so I take my car to the shop if the engine sounds funny or the brakes don’t work, or the windshield wipers make noise. But what about the driver of the car. How difficult will repairs be when I have a stroke while driving? And what about that family in the minivan next to me?
Why do I always feel that I am invincible?
Where Do I Go From Here? 
The Macho Syndrome or How I’m Killing Myself
September 18, 2015
Sometimes I write a comment in response to someone else’s comment and it has so much content that it really should be a post of its own. This is one such comment with….hmmm….a few modifications.
Photo complements of The Body Consultants.
I know!
I KNOW!!
But being macho is not just a male trait, I’m female and am just as guilty.
I don’t want to be seen as a ‘WUSS’ or have the label ‘HYPOCHONDRIAC’, but that’s no excuse for dancing all night on a broken foot and boasting about it to the technician putting the cast on at 2:00 am.
The truth is that the nagging messages we get from our bodies are pleas for help.
Thanks to Lotus Love for this image.
Years of masking acid reflux with a bottle of Tums…a lifetime of drinking Coke even when it will melt a nail overnight…a nagging headache that just won’t go away…shortness of breath after climbing the stairs each night…
My body speaks to me constantly, begging for mercy, but I’m so busy I deliberately tune it out. I’ve become entrenched in the habit of ignoring the messages and it’s more comfortable to live in pain than to make an appointment with a doctor.
My suffering has grown to status symbol importance, like MacDonald’s golden arches, and I constantly remind all within hearing that “My Back is KILLING ME!” when, in truth, it is me killing my back.
Complements of UCMP Helathbeat
And, all the while, my body has been building a backlog of stress from the pain and is reacting by dumping more acid into my stomach, increasing my heart rate, and keeping me awake at night so I can’t heal.
Then…when something breaks and can’t be fixed I proudly say such things as, “I haven’t been to the doctor in 30 years! Never been sick a day in my life! How could this happen to me???” It would be more truthful to say, “Why didn’t I pay attention to the signs and take care of this before it reached epic proportions? I guess I brought this all on myself.”
I know maintenance is necessary for other things so I take my car to the shop if the engine sounds funny or the brakes don’t work, or the windshield wipers make noise. But what about the driver of the car. How difficult will repairs be when I have a stroke while driving? And what about that family in the minivan next to me?
Why do I always feel that I am invincible?