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It’s good now but it’s not tasty!
Many years ago I suffered from terrible migraines that mistreated me a lot. I always had to stay in the emergency room to receive medication for vomiting and headache. When I got there the nurses looked at each other as they wanted to say: here comes the migraine woman. When I was finally released I returned home feeling like a scarecrow shattered after an F5 tornado with winds of 250 to 330 k/h. Sometimes I felt so bad that I worried I would never be well again. Then I told to my friend how I was doing: I am better but not very well. And she said: it takes patience, you look just like my mother used to say: Ok, It’s good now but it’s not tasty. Not yet.
This expression ended up being incorporated into our already rich arsenal of familiar codes and expressions, among many others. When we are recovering from some illness or malaise, still fragile in body and spirit, we usually say among us, sisters and cousins: I am better, I feel good, but it’s not tasty, not yet, alluding to the saying of Mrs Cora. Yesterday a dear cousin used this expression to mean a drop in her mood, which took me immediately to the time of migraines.
It is very difficult to separate what is from the body and what is from the mind or the psyche or soul, whatever. Almost always when the body gets sick, the spirit was already sick and we didn’t realize it. The homeopath always asked me: after all, what is that you need so much to pour out, referring to the terrible vomiting. The body was healed with medicines, but the spirit was still silent there, still sick.
This invisible part of us suddenly erupts from depths and screams for attention, it doesn’t admit to carrying so much pains and demands to share the load with the body. Anyway, in this mess and complicated web of which we are made, we always drag behind us a long entourage of sequels of losses, trauma by rejections, disappointments and other sadness or just anxiety about life. What a good body we must have to deal with our seemingly invisible ailments.
About the migraine of that time, one day it was healed. And when we are healed we never know for sure what the exact medicine was, as it always happens that we are trying more than one procedure. Once, immersed in that migraine crisis, I looked in dismay at the young doctor who attended me. The smart and competent girl asked me if I knew a certain medication that was not exactly suitable for migraine, but that worked well on it. I decided to try it. Since then I never had a single crisis again. I had a little pain or another, but nothing that a pain pill does not solve. And vomiting, never more. It also happened that I started to write by that time and perhaps writing has opened a door stuck inside me and many others. Writing is good for those who write and good for those who read.
Writing heals. Goethe already said: “if a pain afflicts you, make a poem from it.”
I did so.
There is still a third hypothesis: my convinced husband insists on saying that I was healed after I married him. And who can say it was not? Maybe a little bit of everything: a little for the medication, a little for the writing and a lot for the love.
I feel quite well. It’s good and it’s very tasty!
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