A few months ago, I reacted negatively to a potent neuropeptide, which plunged me back into bedbound bizarro world where I remain today—disillusioned, frustrated, and bored—with the added side effect of an increased appetite on par with that of a black bear.
Since then, I have been questioning every question I ask myself, which at this point is a lot of questions.
But why would a man of my stature in the chronic illness community be taking a neuropeptide in the first place, you ask? What even is a neuropeptide, you say?
It sounds fancy and new agey.
Well, it’s not. It’s dumb, and I shouldn’t have been taking it.
In fact, it took me eight days to realize that this obnoxious neuropeptide called VIP (vasoactive intestinal polypeptide), in the form of a nasal spray, was feverishly preying on my nervous system. This illness certainly has a blithe disregard for all that is sacred and holy.
In general, I’ve had it up to here with the universe playing tricks on me. Just the other day, I was saying to myself how quiet it is here in the land of small-town, semi-rural Massachusetts, and not even a minute later came a thunderous bang from outside my window, followed by loud, irritating machine noise for hours.
What’s next, an earthquake that impacts my house only?
On the bright side, my wife really overdoes it with the grocery shopping. Stuff is pouring out of the fridge, and I’m stalked up on light popcorn; bags of almond, cranberry, and cashew trail mix; and my favorite dark chocolate from Trader Joe’s. Not to mention some German decaf coffee and decaf Green tea.
When returning to the dead, perhaps the best thing you can do for yourself is to just have snacks handy.
Since then, I have been questioning every question I ask myself, which at this point is a lot of questions.
But why would a man of my stature in the chronic illness community be taking a neuropeptide in the first place, you ask? What even is a neuropeptide, you say?
It sounds fancy and new agey.
Well, it’s not. It’s dumb, and I shouldn’t have been taking it.
In fact, it took me eight days to realize that this obnoxious neuropeptide called VIP (vasoactive intestinal polypeptide), in the form of a nasal spray, was feverishly preying on my nervous system. This illness certainly has a blithe disregard for all that is sacred and holy.
In general, I’ve had it up to here with the universe playing tricks on me. Just the other day, I was saying to myself how quiet it is here in the land of small-town, semi-rural Massachusetts, and not even a minute later came a thunderous bang from outside my window, followed by loud, irritating machine noise for hours.
What’s next, an earthquake that impacts my house only?
On the bright side, my wife really overdoes it with the grocery shopping. Stuff is pouring out of the fridge, and I’m stalked up on light popcorn; bags of almond, cranberry, and cashew trail mix; and my favorite dark chocolate from Trader Joe’s. Not to mention some German decaf coffee and decaf Green tea.
When returning to the dead, perhaps the best thing you can do for yourself is to just have snacks handy.
