As a child, I imagined my body as a construction site.
I am not sure where this originated, but I believed tiny workers in hardhats were throughout my body and in charge of my significant systems.
If I had a stomach ache, I would say, “The guys in my tummy are working hard today.”
Weird? Maybe, but it’s probably even more bizarre that I’ve carried these biological Bob and Barbara Builders into adulthood.
I still toss out comments about my crew. After my double mastectomy, I told my family an entire department was relocated. My kids are rarely amused.
So, where did this silliness come from, and why do I continue?
At some point in my little life, I must have found the idea of the human body, all its systems, daunting. At the same time, I marveled at street construction.
Maintenance holes, hardhats, and scaffolding. Those slow-down signs and waving flags. I was a sucker for a potbelly, a pencil behind the ear, and the beeping sounds of heavy machinery in reverse.
Honestly, I still am. I’m also intrigued by linen or bakery delivery services. Dry cleaners too, but let’s stay on topic.
It makes sense that as a child, I placed my vital systems in the hands of a construction crew. I liked them and somehow understood a dump truck much more than my digestive tract.
There’s a difference between knowing and understanding. Even with all the charts and graphs we are supposed to study and memorize on our way to adulthood, sometimes complicated and unfathomable things need a little whimsy.
Not because we lack intelligence or don’t know how the endocrine system works, but because it’s too much. Too much information, too much fear, too much… fill in the blank. And then most of what we manage to understand is still out of our control.
I’ve been sick the last few days. Depending on my symptoms, I’ll usually take something from the cabinet, go to the doctor, or even urgent care if things take a turn.
I loaded up on medicine, drank peppermint tea with honey this time, and eventually woke in a sweaty mess, grateful for my immune system. Those guys really know what they’re doing.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Extra Pillows.